


Up On The Roof

by besully (Briar_Elwood)



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Big Bang Challenge, Dean freaks out a lot, Dean/Cas Big Bang Challenge 2013, Explicit Language, M/M, Schmoop, Song Lyrics
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-04
Updated: 2013-11-04
Packaged: 2017-12-30 18:51:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 23,554
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1022193
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Briar_Elwood/pseuds/besully
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean, Sam, Benny, and Victor make up the a cappella group The Vessels. The group's popularity is quickly fading and, refusing to be finished quite yet, hold auditions for a fifth member. Castiel Novak, a strange baritone, is one of the auditionees to which Dean initially says no. But his initial reaction might be caused by more than just being weirded out by the odd man. Castiel's rumbling voice and intensely blue eyes might also have something to do with it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> Many thanks to Deanna (deannawincester) for being my beta. All mistakes are still mine.  
> Many thanks also to Chantelle (spnblargh) for her wonderful art. These boys are too cute, and she does a wonderful job making that obvious. :D
> 
>  
> 
> _A note about the song lyrics: Clearly, I do not own the lyrics first off. Secondly, I tried desperately to find the "official" lyrics for each song, meaning the lyrics posted on the artist's website or the lyrics in the booklet for the album. This would be why some lyrics are in all lowercase, some punctuation things are odd, etc. I went with the official lyrics for every song that I could. Some songs I couldn't find, however, so I had to rely on what I could find online. (For one I had to actually rely on listening to the song over and over: that one would be Up On The Roof because I wanted to use The Persuasions' version.)_
> 
>  
> 
> There is also a playlist. [Here.](http://8tracks.com/briarelwood/up-on-the-roof)

The entire two hours had been bad, and they all knew it. Benny was being a ridiculously good sport about it, trying hard to liven up the audience with crazier than usual antics. Victor kept a smile plastered on, but Dean’s pretty sure everyone could tell he was suffering. And Sam kept shooting Dean looks that were slightly panicky and had that edge of warning that was currently rubbing Dean the wrong way. Dean tried his best not to look and act as tired as he felt, but godammit, if the audience wasn’t going to respond, how the hell was he supposed to act?

They leave the stage to a sad sounding “whoo”, and Dean barely manages to put his microphone away before swiping angrily at the air.

“Son of a bitch!”

“The hell were you doing with the chair back there, Benny?” Sam’s asking, dutifully ignoring Dean’s outburst. Benny shrugs.

“Tryin’ ta get a reaction outta ‘em.”

Sam doesn’t look impressed, but when does he ever? “Next time why don’t you try to not get yourself killed?”

“At least it woulda livened up the audience,” Benny grunts.

“Not sure even that would’ve done any good,” Victor mumbles, rubbing at his eyes wearily. “Bet they would’ve jumped at the excuse to leave.”

“Half of ‘em left at intermission,” Benny adds, and Dean wishes they would all shut up because talking about it’s just making him feel worse.

“Guys, we knew what we were getting into when we did this,” Sam points out. “A capella groups have a hard time. We’re lucky The Vessels got this far for this long.”

“You sound like you’re saying we’re finished,” Victor says. The jolt of adrenaline that rushes through Dean's system at that panic wakes him up a bit. He’s put too much into this, too much time, too much money, too much blood, sweat and tears (all three quite literally), for it to all just _end_. Especially on such a shitty note.

And yet Sam’s shrugging like the world ends like this every day. “Maybe. We had a good run.”

“No,” Dean finally speaks up, voice a little hoarse from all that goddamned singing his fucking heart out with no energy whatsoever. “We’re not just giving up. There’s gotta be something we can do to get us back out there.”

“Like what?” Benny asks, sounding curious rather than skeptical which Dean’s grateful for.

“I dunno! Shake up our routine somehow. New songs. New look. New something.” He looks back to Sam desperately. “Sammy, you’re better at this. There’s gotta be something.”

Sam frowns at Dean thoughtfully long enough that Dean’s getting antsy. Finally he nods. “Okay. Yeah, I’ll look into it. I’ll talk to Bobby and Charlie, too, get their input.”

Dean nods curtly, satisfied. “Good. Good.” He turns back to Benny and Victor, who are both looking at them expectantly. “We’re not finished. Not yet. Not even close.”


	2. Up On The Roof

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “What’s this?” he mumbles when his first glance fails to tell him anything, closing both eyes again.
> 
> “People who’ve auditioned for The Vessels since we started.”
> 
> Dean frowns. “But we’ve never held auditions. ... We already have four guys in the group.”
> 
> “And plenty of groups have more. Ladysmith Black Mambazo has something like fifteen guys in their group.”
> 
> “Yeah, okay, and they’re all big black dudes singing African and jumping around in dresses.”

Dean Winchester may or may not have drank too much last night. And he may or may not have done it for the sole purpose that the concert had made him miserable. And the mere prospect of The Vessels having to come to an end depressed him. And maybe all that meant there was no way he was going to be able to sleep without getting absolutely plastered. Alone. In the room designated as his in the house just outside of Vegas that they really didn’t have the money for anymore. Not these days. No matter what Bobby assured them.

So Dean Winchester may or may not have one his top ten worst hangovers right now.

Also he’s definitely _not_ pulled out The Vessels’ two (dammit, they’d only gotten two out) albums, and he’s most certainly not looking at them morosely, bemoaning life. And he’s not close to actually pulling out the CDs to listen to. Nope.

Benny really does look good in that cap. That picture was taken soon after he’d started growing his beard too. It was a good look for him. Dean had been skeptical at first. Good thing Charlie had approved it. Pretty sure she actually threatened Benny if he ever shaved. Something about the laid back look working with the beatboxing baritone’s attitude.

Sam looks ridiculous with the stupid v-neck. Charlie says it works with the “metro” look, helping him seem less ridiculous when he pulls out those high falsetto notes he gets as first tenor. Since he’s such a big guy and whatever. Dean still just thinks he looks ridiculous. And the moose should get a haircut. Not that Charlie would ever allow that.

Victor looks all business as usual, clean cut goatee, outfit practically a suit. Dean remembers back before this had all started, he’d been friends with Victor for about a year before Dean discovered the guy does actually smile sometimes. Not that any of the fans ever cared. Once they heard how low the bass could get, they were in love.

Dean always looks the most boring. Charlie calls it “normal”. “Relatable”. As lead tenor, the one who’s voice people are usually singing along with, listening more closely to, he doesn’t need much other than a pretty face and smile beyond the voice. Which he’s perfectly fine with. All the cameras and lights and costumes freak him out a bit anyway. He’d be perfectly happy if he could just sing in a pair of old jeans and flannel. Not that Charlie would ever allow that for a performance. He can sometimes get away with it if they’re just recording, but they don’t really just record that much. Don’t have the money. So it’s usually performances. On stage. In front of audiences.

Which is great and all, there’s always that rush of adrenaline, that performance high, especially since the performance is with his three of his favorite people, but when it’s shitty performances, shitty audiences, shitty everything like last night?

The door to his room swings open, Sam waltzing in without preamble, a small stack of papers in his hand. He’s looking down at them, reading, so Dean has time to slip the CDs away and fix his face into a picture of innocence until the throbbing headache comes back with a vengeance. He lets out a small moan, dropping his head into his hands.

Sam, too used to Dean’s hangovers, ignores him and drops the stack of papers down in front of Dean. Dean opens one eye to peer at the papers with annoyance.

“What’s this?” he mumbles when his first glance fails to tell him anything, closing both eyes again.

“People who’ve auditioned for The Vessels since we started.”

Dean frowns. “But we’ve never held auditions.”

“Yeah, which is why probably none of them are what we’re looking for. But it’s somewhere to start. And once we get the word out we _are_ holding auditions, we’ll have a lot more. And a lot more talent to choose from.”

Dean manages to open both eyes to stare up at Sam, who’s still standing at his full height, arms folded across his chest, frowning down at Dean impatiently. Or expectantly. Dean can’t quite tell which.

“We already have four guys in the group.”

“And plenty of groups have more. Ladysmith Black Mambazo has something like fifteen guys in their group.”

“Yeah, okay, and they’re all big black dudes singing African and jumping around in dresses.”

Sam gives him a bitchface, but it’s only a quick one as he passes over Dean’s comment and continues. “Bobby thinks, and I agree with him, that we should look for either a baritone or a beatboxer so Benny doesn’t have to keep switching, and we can have both for every song. It’d make a lot of arrangements a lot easier.”

“Okay, but the reason we were able to pull this off til now is because we all knew each other beforehand,” Dean points out. “We were all friends and knew we could work together. Minimum drama.”

And there’s another bitchface. “You wanted me to figure out how to get us back in the game. This is what I got. This is what we’re doing. Bobby and Charlie are already working on getting the word out.”

Dean doesn’t mean to let out a groan, but he’s grateful he drops his head at the same time so he misses Sam’s third bitchface of the morning.

“Benny’s making breakfast,” Sam says after a moment. “I’ll tell him to make you something extra greasy.”

Dean figures Sam knows his next grunt is actually a thank you.

* * *

Dean really sort of hates people. Just in general, really. Social interaction is not his favorite thing to do. Being on stage is fine, for the most part, because of the lights and the distance and, really, the whole stage thing separating performers from audience is a blessing. Plus, all four of them do put on a face for the public. There’s a Dean Winchester, lead tenor in The Vessels mask that he puts on every time he talks to someone outside of the four of them, Bobby, or Charlie. Which is fine and great usually.

But this whole audition thing?

Fucking sucks.

Dean has no idea how long they’ve been doing this today, but it feels like years. Luckily Victor looks just as thrilled to be here as Dean feels so he’s not alone, but Bobby and Sam keep shooting him disapproving looks whenever he so much as shifts in his chair. Finally Bobby announces they’re done for the day, and Dean is moving out of there as fast as humanly possible. Of course, Sam manages to keep up and follows.

“So I was watching some of the video auditions over lunch earlier, and there’s one we’re thinking about calling. Asking if he’ll come by and do a live audition.”

Dean grinds his teeth for a moment before answering. He really just wants to go hide in his room for a bit. This audition shit is getting old and it’s only been, like, three days.

“Baritone or beatboxer?”

“Baritone. Sang Mumford and Sons’ _Little Lion Man_ in the video.”

Dean raises an eyebrow. “Mumford and Sons? Really?”

“It’s a good song, Dean,” Sam says, frowning. Dean scoffs.

“Yeah, you would like them. What’s the dude’s name?”

“Castiel Novak,” Sam answers, seeming pleased Dean doesn’t press the issue. But really, he just gave Dean a whole new reason to look skeptical.

“Gesundheit.”

“Oh, my god, Dean, if you’re gonna be a child about it--”

Dean rolls his eyes dramatically. “Send me the video, I’ll look at it.”

* * *

He’s got a good voice, Dean has to admit. This Castiel Novak or whatever. Bizarre name. Seems to fit the guy, though. Dark hair, shocking blue eyes, a brooding frown. There’s almost something otherworldly about him. Which may be helped by the folky music. Mumford and Sons. _Seriously_.

But whatever. He’s good and Sammy likes him a lot so fine. Dean emails Sam back to ask when Novak will be coming by for the live audition and then decidedly forgets about him. It’s not like this guy’s going to actually join The Vessels.

So when Castiel Novak shows up for his live audition for a few days later and even Charlie is there (Bobby hadn’t even been showing up to all the auditions), Dean’s a bit taken aback.

Castiel walks in, tan trenchcoat still on and hair ridiculously wind blown, and Dean automatically writes him off. The idiot’s in a _suit and tie_ for chrissakes. The Vessels are not a _suit_ group. No.

Castiel mutters an apology as he sheds the flasher coat and suit jacket, rolling up the sleeves of his white button up. Then he looks over at them all, eyes wide and almost frantic. God, the guy looks stressed.

“Should I just go ahead?”

Sam actually still looks hopeful, expectant. “Yeah, go ahead. Whenever you’re comfortable.”

Castiel gives a slight nod, turns to the piano to plunk out his starting note, and then turns back. Suddenly the frantic, stressed aura is gone. Even the windblown hair seems to just take on a distinctly purposeful look. Like it was actually styled that way rather than tossed about by ruthless gusts.

“I’ll be singing _Demons_ by Imagine Dragons.”

Whoa. Okay, so without the distraction of how stressed the guy seemed? His voice takes on this deep, gravelly, almost... well, _fucked_ tone. And not fucked in the bad way. Fucked in like the, I just had a fabulous night that won’t be topped for another few years. It’s a bit impressive, considering how smooth his singing voice had sounded on the video.

And then he starts singing. And, okay, yeah, he’s got a great, rich, (beautiful, even) voice. But... Dean glances around at the others, wondering if it’s just him. Judging by the smile playing on Benny’s lips, the eyebrows halfway up Bobby’s forehead, and the somewhat strained look on Sam’s face, he’s not the only one uncomfortable.

Really, it’s not horrific or anything. It might even be okay on a stage. Maybe. Mostly it’s just awkward. Castiel clearly has a lot of passion, and it’s just rather weird to feel like they’re an audience to this stranger pouring out his soul. Which, sure, is supposed to be the point of music in a way, but people always put on a stage face, right? That’s a normal thing. But there’s something about Castiel’s performance that just... clearly isn’t pretend. It’s actually Castiel. Dean would almost say the guy’s trying too hard, but he’s not sure that’s actually the case.

Castiel finishes the song and immediately a mask falls back over his features. It’s actually kind of impressive how carefully schooled his features are so that none of the raw emotions from before are shown. Well. Impressive and unsettling.

Sam thanks Castiel by name. The suit jack and trenchcoat are slipped back on, a brief nod is given (gratitude, maybe?), and he’s gone. It’s quiet for a few moments before Sam turns to everyone expectantly.

“So?”

Benny lets out a low chuckle. “I like him. He’s funny.”

“I don’t think he meant to be funny,” Victor says, though he doesn’t look as incredulous as Dean thinks he should be. “He has talent. And I believe his voice would blend well with ours.”

“And maybe we should start singing more things like Imagine Dragons and Mumford and Sons,” Benny interjects. “Might bring in more of a crowd than our usual.” God, they’re not joking are they?

“You can’t be serious,” Dean bursts. “You actually think Castiel Novak is what we’re looking for?”

Sam shrugs. “Why not, Dean? He’s talented, he seems dedicated....”

“He’s bizarre!”

"Nothin' wrong with a little passion, Dean,” Bobby says in a tone that is obviously trying to calm him.

“But--!”

“Charlie, your thoughts?” Sam interrupts.

“Purely on an aesthetic point of view, my vote is a yes. I could work with that tie...”

“Bobby?”

“It might take a bit of work on everyone’s part, but yes.”

“Benny? Victor?”

“Yessir.”

“Yup.”

Sam turns his gaze to Dean, whose jaw is somewhere near his feet. Sam’s eyebrows are raised challengingly, like he knows exactly what Dean is thinking. Which he probably does, but that’s besides the point.

“Dean?”

Dean glances around at the others for a few seconds before throwing a glare at Sam. “You know what? No. No. The guy’s bizarre. There’s got to be someone else out there that we can use. Someone better. No.”

“Dammit, Dean!” Sam snaps impatiently. “You’re the one who didn’t want The Vessels to die out! Work with us here!”

Dean starts building himself up to start bellowing back. Sam wants a yelling match? Dean’ll give him a yelling match.

“Boys!”

Both Dean and Sam jump a little at Bobby’s rough voice. He’s stood up, glaring at both of them. Benny, Victor, and Charlie are all looking innocently elsewhere, pretending they’re not there. Charlie’s even pulled out her phone, tapping away aimlessly. They’re all used to it; the brothers fighting. Any of the issues The Vessels have ever had amongst themselves have always started with Dean and Sam. Sometimes Dean wonders why Benny and Victor put up with it.

“I’m sorry, Sam,” Bobby’s saying, still glaring, “but it just isn’t a good start to things if even one of you--and I mean all of you, not just you two idjits--doesn’t like the new guy. So this Castiel character isn’t in. Yet. What we _are_ gonna do, though, is a trial run. Have him hang out with the four of you. See how he mixes in, both vocally and socially. And, Dean, you’re gonna have to get over yourself for that. It’ll just be a few days, then if you still have a problem with him, he’s out of the running, and we start back at square one.” He eyeballs both of them warningly. “Deal?”

There’s a pause. Then: “Deal,” Sam grumbles. Dean rolls his eyes dramatically, folding his arms across his chest.

“Fine.”

And that’s that.

* * *

Dean manages to avoid the whole “greeting” when Castiel Novak arrives at the house. In fact, he manages to avoid running in to the baritone for a good few hours without any trouble at all. Or any nagging, thanks to the fact he decides to go hang out with Charlie and watch a few hours of Battlestar Galactica. She gives him an amused smile but doesn’t say anything beyond that until Victor pokes his head into the entertainment room to tell him that he really should probably at least say hi. When Charlie agrees with him and then goes on to tell him he’s actually being sort of childish about this whole thing, Dean gives her a quick glare before leaving. He stops by his room to grab his guitar and then climbs out the window in the hallway to the rooftop.

The bit of rooftop outside the window is Dean’s little personal space. Even more so than his room in a lot of ways. Sam honestly should know better than to barge into Dean’s room, but he does anyway, and Benny and Victor sometimes don’t really do the whole “door’s closed” thing either. The roof, though, is where Dean goes to be alone. Usually with his guitar. Just him, the music, and the outdoors.

So when Castiel Novak appears to be sitting on the rooftop, Dean’s a bit affronted.

He doesn’t actually notice him at first. The area’s large enough that Castiel’s over to the side crouching in a corner, and Dean doesn’t even see him until he’s settled down. The suit and trench coat are gone, thank god, and he’s in jeans and a black tee instead. His hair’s still ridiculous so that Dean’s starting to wonder if maybe it is actually purposefully styled like that. Or maybe his hair just isn't something this guy pays too much attention to. He’s got his knees pulled up on either side of his head, leaning over what looks like a pad of notebook paper (Jesus, the dude’s flexible, that looks uncomfortable), and he keeps alternating between chewing on the eraser of the pencil in his hand and scribbling things down on the paper. He doesn’t seem to have heard Dean clambering out onto the rooftop.

Dean stares at Castiel for a few moments, waiting for him to notice that he’s not alone. After a few minutes pass and nothing changes, Dean clears his throat loudly. Castiel startles so badly, Dean’s actually afraid he’s going to go toppling off the roof, but he manages to steady himself, looking over to Dean with wide, panicked eyes.

“Oh my god, I’m so sorry, am I not supposed to be up here?”

Dean takes the briefest of moments to gather himself at the shock of Castiel’s voice. He’d forgotten how incredible it was. Honestly, how is it possible for a voice to be so rough like that, so _husky_ , just naturally?

“There’s no rule against it,” he says, scooting over closer to the guy. Ah, yes, he’d also forgotten about the eyes that seem like they can read your fucking soul. Dean’s feeling a bit more justified in his initial judgement of the guy. People don’t like people who have perpetual frowns, naturally terrifying voices, and soul-reading eyeballs. That on top of the whole creepy sudden switch to pure emotion to unreadable mask, there is no way a person like Castiel Novak would help The Vessels get back in the game. Nope.

“I suppose I’m intruding on your personal area then,” Castiel says, starting to gather up his notepad.

If you were to ask Dean later what came over him, he’d probably just punch you in the face for an answer. Then he’d shrug, averting his gaze, and mutter “Curiosity”.

“What’re you working on?” he asks, nodding at the paper. Castiel pauses, glancing at the indicated paper, and settles back down.

“Uh. I was just. Arranging an a cappella piece,” he says awkwardly. “For fun. Just. Uh. Yeah.”

“Yeah?” Dean asks. “Can I see?”

Castiel shifts uncomfortably for a moment but hands Dean the notepad all the same. Dean skims the messy notes, searching for the lyrics. In the mess of things crossed out, musical notes, and whatever else, he finds the words “ _Leaves are falling all around/ It’s time I was on my way_ ”. He jerks back, staring over at Castiel.

“Did Sam put you up to this? Bobby? Maybe Benny?”

Castiel looks utterly confused and maybe a bit frightened. Which might have something to do with the fact Dean kind of hissed the question, but hey.

“I... I don’t know what you mean...”

Dean waves the paper in the poor dude’s face. “Sam’s desperate for me to like you and say yes to letting you in, so he tells you to go hang out on the roof and arrange Led Zeppelin’s _Ramble On_ because, hey, how could I resist if you’re composing an arrangement to my favorite song?”

Huge blue eyes blink stupidly at Dean for a few seconds. In those few seconds Dean realizes he’s breathing really hard, and he feels a little flushed. He lets out a grumble of annoyance, shoving the notepad back in Castiel’s hands, and settling down with his guitar close. And, no, he’s not using it as a shield. That would be stupid.

“Is... Is _Ramble On_ your favorite Led Zeppelin song or your favorite song in general?” Castiel finally asks, voice quiet.

Dean looks back at Castiel, flabbergasted that _that_ is what the guy decided to take out of that. He almost wonders if Castiel is just jerking around with him. It’s impossible to tell with that practically emotionless mask.

“Um. Well. It’s a tie between _Ramble On_ and _Traveling Riverside Blues_ ,” Dean says, at a loss what to say beyond that. Castiel nods and shuffles through the notepad for a moment before stopping at a certain page and showing it to Dean.

“I’ve done that one, too. I drew inspiration from Eric Clapton’s version a bit, but mainly focused on Led Zeppelin.”

Dean stares at the paper for a moment, the writing a blur, then looks back up to Castiel with a frown. “What happened to Mumford and Sons and Imagine Dragons?”

Castiel smiles a bit and shrugs, flipping back to the page he’d been working on. “I have a wide range of taste when it comes to music. My iPod has a lot of variety.” He pauses, looking at Dean, and it’s officially really bugging Dean that he can’t read the guy. “So you like classic rock, I take it.”

“Mainly, yeah,” Dean replies, not sure why he’s still continuing the conversation. “I’ve learned to like a few things outside of that since The Vessels got started, but classic rock is where it’s at.”

“What about classic a cappella?”

Dean frowns at Castiel for a moment, not sure what he means at first before rolling his eyes. “You mean like _Up On The Roof_?”

Castiel smiles and, ooo, that’s a nice smile. He should do that more often.

“It’s a good one,” he says with a shrug. Dean chuckles for some reason. And then he starts singing. Quietly, sure, but he’s _singing_. Christ, what has gotten into him?

 

 

_“When this ol’ world starts getting me down_

_“And people are just too much for me to face...”_

 

Maybe it’s not that weird because, well, hey, Dean spends all of his time with The Vessels, and when a group of a cappella singers are together 24/7, the amount of spontaneous singing and jam sessions is a bit over the average group of friends. Though it would be really weird and awkward if Castiel just looked at Dean like he was crazy, but Castiel actually just smiles again (maybe Dean can make it a goal to get that smile to come out as often as possible) and starts singing along.

 

_“I climb right up to the top of the stairs_

_“All my cares just drift right into space (Up on the roof)_

_“At night the stars put on a show for free_

_“Darling, you can share them all with me_

_“I keep telling you”_

_“When I come home feeling tired and beat_

_“I go up where the air is fresh and sweet (Up on the roof)_

_“I get away from the hustling crowd_

_“And all that rat-race noise down in the street (Up on the roof)_

_“On the roof, the only place I know_

_“Where you just have to wish to make it so_

_“Let’s go up on the roof (Up on the roof)”_

 

Dean plucks a bit at his guitar for the instrumental solo, Castiel still humming the harmony along with it. And, yeah, the mask is gone, but it’s not quite as intense of a shift as it had been with the audition. The guy just looks so at ease, eyes closed and mouth turned upward slightly with a smile, kinda leaning into the sunlight like he’s a damn flower or something.

It’s kind of adorable, really. ...Which is a thought Dean promptly shoves away and pretends didn’t happen.

 

_“On the roof, the only place I know_

_“There, the world below dare not go_

_“I keep telling you, right smack dab in the middle of town_

_“I found a paradise that’s trouble proof (Up on the roof)_

_“And if this world starts getting you down_

_“There’s room enough for two up on the roof (Up on the roof)_

_“Up on the roof (Up on the roof)”_

 

The song dwindles a bit after that, Dean aimlessly picking at the guitar and Castiel humming harmonies, still looking peaceful and whatever. Dean maybe forgets that he’s actually doing something because he gets so caught up in watching the guy, which seems to pull Castiel out of his reverie and, wham, the mask is back up. Dean blinks rapidly in surprise, but Castiel doesn’t seem to notice anything amiss and only smiles.

“You have a nice voice, Dean.”

Dean snorts, looking away. “Okay, okay, enough of the sucking up.”

When Castiel doesn’t answer right away, Dean glances back at him to see the guy actually seems confused.

“I’m not ‘sucking up’. You really do have a wonderful voice. It has a unique quality to it.”

“Wait, okay,” Dean interrupts quickly. “You sound like you’ve never heard me sing before.”

“I haven’t,” Castiel replies as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world. Dean stares blankly at him for a moment.

“Are you telling me that you just auditioned for an a cappella group without ever listening to them first?”

Castiel shrugs awkwardly, ears turning a little pink. “Well. Yeah. To be honest, I never really expected for my video to be taken seriously. I just thought... what the hell, you know?”

“Woke up one day and thought, ah, you know, I’ll just try out for a professional a cappella group today. No biggie,” Dean says incredulously and not just a tiny bit sarcastically. The pink in Castiel’s ears is spreading.

“Like I said, I didn’t really expect to be taken seriously.”

Dean continues to stare (for probably longer than is necessary), and Castiel just looks up at him a bit bashfully, piercing blue eyes staring right back at him through that ridiculous dark hair. After a few moments, Castiel mutters, “Knowing The Vessels beforehand wasn’t a prerequisite or something, was it?”

Dean blinks at him for a moment, suddenly remembering why he’d been staring in the first place. “What? God, no. No. Just.... You’re crazy, you know that?”

Castiel smirks a bit, embarrassment fading. “I get that a lot, actually.”

“Yeah?” Dean asks, amused. “Think that says something about you, Cas.”

And there’s that warm smile again. Dean’s going to start taking a mental tally of how many times he pulls it out.

“It probably does.”


	3. Ho Hey

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> If Dean were paying closer attention, he’d notice the looks Victor, Benny, and Sam were sharing. Charlie gives Dean a wide grin before lunch one day, but Dean doesn’t understand what it means so shrugs it off. There are a couple times when they’re around everyone else, for meals or singing or just hanging out, that Cas seems to get a little quieter and more reserved, but Dean convinces himself it’s just because Cas isn’t as comfortable around the others as he’s gotten with Dean.

Dean and Cas stay on the roof until a loud growl from Cas’s stomach reaches Dean’s ears. Dean chuckles at him and asks if Cas likes hamburgers. He gets a rather enthusiastic yes so they climb back through the window and, after dropping off Dean’s guitar in his room, head to the kitchen. They continue their conversation about Cas (he’s still in school because he can’t figure out what the hell he wants to do with his life, and he manages to afford that because his family’s loaded, though he changes to topic whenever Dean tries to prompt more explanation on his family) while Dean fires up the grill. The conversation comes to a halt when Benny walks in, led by his nose despite the fact he’s got it buried in a book. ( _Dracula_. He likes it, but not as much as he liked _Frankenstein_.)

“You makin' your famous burgers?” he asks, looking over the book with wide and excited eyes. Dean grins.

“Yeah. Call everyone else, will you? They’re just about done.”

As Benny runs off to gather everyone for dinner, Cas turns a raised eyebrow to Dean.

“Your burgers are famous?”

Dean chuckles, poking at one of the burgers to make sure it’s done. “In this house, yeah, kinda. Sam’ll even eat them, and he’s big on the health nut stuff so I suppose that’s saying something.”

Benny comes back in at an amusingly brisk pace, grabbing a plate from a cupboard without even stopping. “I get first pick,” he declares, crowding up to the grill and looking at the burgers appraisingly. Dean knocks him out of the way with a bump of his shoulder.

“Dude, back off. I think the guest gets the first pick, chef second. You can get third.”

Benny’s eyebrows shoot upwards for a moment, but he doesn’t say anything, shaking his head and taking a few hurried steps backwards.

“Yeah. Yeah, no, of course. Guest gets first pick. Think I should get second.”

“Tough,” Dean says with a smile, choosing to ignore Benny’s distinct lack of comment on certain issues. There are no issues. None whatsoever. Cas gives Dean something of a shy smile (add another tally mark) and hops off where he’d perched on the counter. Dean sticks his arm out toward Benny, gesturing for him to give Dean his plate. Benny frowns.

“Seriously, brother? You make a man wait for his pick of the meat, _and_ you expect him ta give up the plate he rightfully got for himself?”

“Oh, get over yourself,” Dean says with an eyeroll before snatching the plate out of Benny’s hands.

“It’s fine, I can get my own--” Cas starts, but Dean waves him off.

“Benny’s a big boy. He’ll live.”

Benny gives him his best threatening face (which might’ve worked if Dean didn’t know him so well) that Dean promptly ignores, turning back to Cas.

“All right,” he says, switching off the heat on the grill. “Which one do you want?”

Cas makes a little aborted move with one shoulder that Dean thinks is supposed to be a shrug. “Whichever one is fine. Doesn’t matter.”

“Oh, come on. How about this one? Big and juicy.” Dean can hear Victor walking up, and he’s about ninety-nine percent positive he and Benny are having a conversation with their eyes, catching Victor up on what’s happening. Dean immediately shoves that thought to the back of his mind and shuts the lock.

“Sure,” Cas is saying, which Dean takes as a resounding yes. Dean grabs the burger and drops it on the plate, calling over his shoulder, “Victor, you wanna grab the buns and condiments?”

“Yeah,” Victor replies, not sounding at all surprised that Dean could tell he was there. Cas takes his plate from Dean, shuffling over to the fridge where Victor’s rummaging through. Dean considers stealing the second plate Benny’s gotten out of the cupboard, just to piss him off, but ends up snatching a paper towel for his patty for now.

One by one, everyone files in for the food, murmuring excitement over the treat of Dean’s burgers. Dean isn’t paying much attention to it, though, once he and Cas have sat down at the table, sitting across from each other and continuing their conversation from where it left off.

“So the religious studies didn’t work out for you,” Dean says through a mouthful of burger. Cas, on the other hand, swallows before he replies, nodding.

“I just got too frustrated with many of my colleagues in the field. Some were willing to consider alternate possibilities of reality, whether it be other religions or science or so on, but most were just there to prove their way was the right way.”

“So does that mean you’re religious or...?”

Cas’s shrug actually looks like he’s rolling out a kink in his muscles. “I generally think of myself as Christian, but I don’t actively go to church or anything like that.”

“And after religious studies?” Dean prompts.

“I spent about a year dabbling in a few things before I decided to try education.”

Dean chokes a bit on his food. “What? Isn’t that... going to school?”

Cas smiles (another tally mark) and shakes his head. “I mean teaching. I tried elementary education first, but I decided I didn’t want to be wiping snotty noses and bandaging scraped up knees all day. Then I thought junior high, but it turns out there’s not much teaching at that age. It’s mostly damage control. High school I realized I’d have to pick a topic to teach, and the same for anything higher than that. It also got to a point where I realized there are a lot of politics involved with teaching, and the whole politics route--”

“--Had already been eliminated,” Dean finishes for him, nodding.

“Do I smell Dean Winchester’s delightfully scrumptious burgers?”

Dean looks up at the sound of Charlie’s voice as she drifts into the kitchen, nose literally in the air and leading her way. Everyone else is already sitting down (Benny’s deep in his book, Sam’s on his laptop, Victor’s clearly not watching Dean and Cas intently, Bobby’s fully immersed in the throes of eating), Charlie all that’s left to join them. She notices the plate Dean put together for her once he realized she wasn’t there yet and grins widely at him.

“Aw, I feel special.”

Dean shrugs it off easily. “Figured I’d set one aside for you before all these barbarians” (he gestures) “picked it all away.”

“Dean, you’re the barbaric one, and we all know it,” Sam mutters, not looking up from his laptop. (Okay, so Sam’s been eavesdropping too.) Charlie merely grins and starts wolfing down the burger. Dean raises an eyebrow at her.

“Whoa, there, tiger, you’re gonna make yourself sick.”

Charlie has to take a moment to swallow, a bit of ketchup on the corner of her mouth, before she can reply. “I know, I’m sorry. I hate to just eat and run, but Gilda and I are going out to _The Wrath of Khan_ at the drive-in.”

“You’re going to Wrath of Khan without me?” Dean gasps, mockingly offended. Charlie chuckles, scarfing down the last bits of the burger and walking up beside Dean. When she starts to lean in to give him a kiss on the cheek, Dean stops her to wipe away the bit of ketchup with his napkin.

“We just spent all morning watching Battlestar. You’ll live,” she says with a quick peck before skipping off.

“Have fun!” Dean calls after her. “Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do!”

“Is there _anythin'_ you wouldn’ do?” Benny asks, eyes still fixed on his book. (Dammit, is Bobby really the only one not listening intently?)

Dean chooses to ignore Benny and instead turns back to Cas, bent on continuing the conversation. Cas goes on to tell a couple stories of when he was doing student teaching (god, kids could be a riot), which apparently is something none of the eavesdroppers are particularly interested in. Bobby’s the first one to leave (Dean still can’t tell if he was listening or not), followed shortly by Sam and then Benny. Victor quickly realizes that without something like a laptop or a book to at least make his listening less obvious he’s a bit exposed and soon leaves as well.

“I really did love a number of things about the younger kids,” Cas is saying, and Dean thinks it might be a little wistful. “The few times you got to see that your work was actually doing something were like little miracles each time. But in the end, it just wasn’t worth it.”

Dean nods. “I totally get that. I remember when Sammy was little.... Jesus. Just one was a handful. Can’t imagine what a whole classful would be like.”

“It was exhausting, that’s for sure,” Cas agrees, his voice a little softer. His eyes drift to where he’s slowly swirling the water in his glass around, seemingly mesmerized by the movement. “May I ask you a question?” he asks after a moment. Dean frowns, downing the rest of his own water.

“Sure.”

“Are you and... uh, I don’t recall her name... the redhead?”

“Charlie?” Dean supplies, confused by the direction Cas’s question is going. Cas nods.

“Yes, Charlie. Are you two... together?”

Dean guffaws. Cas probably looks completely baffled, but Dean’s got tears in his eyes from the force of his bark of laughter so he doesn’t see it until he’s chuckling weakly, wiping at his eyes.

“God, no. Charlie’s not... Charlie doesn’t swing that way. Gilda, actually, the one she’s going out with tonight, is her girlfriend.”

“Oh,” Cas says simply, his ears turning a little pink like they had earlier on the roof. “It’s just.... You seemed very familiar with each other....”

Dean should probably stop smirking since it’s probably rude or making Cas more embarrassed or something, but _god_. “Yeah, no, Charlie’s more of little sister, really. She and I were roommates in college. Benny and her previous roommate were dating and wanted to live together, so Charlie and I ended up rooming. Easiest option for everyone involved and it ended up working out. Well, for me and Charlie anyway. That was a nasty breakup for Benny....”

“So you and Benny have been friends for a while?” Cas asks, seeming actually curious, though Dean’s pretty sure he’s also grateful for the change in topic.

“Since third grade, actually,” Dean replies. “Actually hated each other at first, but after a big fight on the playground where I broke his nose and he knocked out one of my teeth, we were best friends.”

Cas raises an eyebrow (and, oh, come on, that was almost a smile). “Why doesn’t that surprise me? What about Victor and Mr. Singer?”

“Bobby?” Dean says. “No one calls him Mr. Singer. That’s a little weird. Bobby was friends with Sam and I’s dad. Kind of. Anyway, he practically raised us so. Victor, on the other hand, was in a course at college with me. We were both kinda interested in law enforcement for a while before this whole a cappella thing happened.”

“How did the whole a cappella thing happen?”

“Honestly?” Dean says, leaning back in his chair. “Sometimes I’m not entirely sure. I mentioned it once to Benny, I think, just saying it’d be kinda fun to put together a band like you do in high school with the practices in your parents’ garage and stuff. Somehow Sam got a hold of the idea, and then Charlie got a hold of it, and... it spiraled from there, I guess.” Dean shrugs. “At first we wanted to do the full on guitar, bass, drums thing, but I play the guitar and Benny plays the piano and that is the full extent of our instrumental prowess. Bobby was the one who suggested a cappella, actually. Made us listen to a bunch of Rockapella and Persuasion. Realized Benny could beatbox, Victor could hit those insane low notes, and Sam could hit those insane high notes and, wham. We were set.”

* * *

It’s strange but meeting on the rooftop to just hang out, play guitar, arrange music, and do a little singing becomes a sort of thing between Dean and Cas. Cas finishes _Ramble On_ (with a little input from Dean) and starts on Styx’s _Renegade_ (by Dean’s suggestion). Dean tells Cas a little more about how he got into music and how he taught himself guitar. Which does lead a bit into the uncomfortable territory of Dad and growing up, but he manages it well enough.

If Dean were paying closer attention, he’d notice the looks Victor, Benny, and Sam were sharing. Charlie gives Dean a wide grin before lunch one day, but Dean doesn’t understand what it means so shrugs it off. There are a couple times when they’re around everyone else, for meals or singing or just hanging out, that Cas seems to get a little quieter and more reserved, but Dean convinces himself it’s just because Cas isn’t as comfortable around the others as he’s gotten with Dean.

The last day of Cas’s stay, Sam makes a public announcement at breakfast that they’re going to have a jam session that night. Dean thinks it’s a bit weird since jam sessions are generally spur of the moment, but he doesn’t say anything. It is Cas’s last night at the house, after all. Which, honestly, is a little weird to think about so Dean is stubbornly not thinking about it.

The jam session, as is the case with ninety-five percent of the jam sessions Dean’s been a part of, is a lot of fun and goes a lot later than they plan. Dean catches Cas yawning a couple of times, but when he asks Cas if he wants to end the night and head off to bed Cas only smiles and shakes his head. They try out Cas’s arrangement of _Ramble On_ and everyone loves it. Benny does some fiddling around on the piano, which ends up with _Hallelujah_ being sung, and Dean does some fiddling on his guitar. Bobby stays up with them only for the first hour before shuffling off to bed. Charlie sticks around for a little longer but mainly for the alcohol.

Around one, maybe closer to two, in the morning, things start winding down. Dean’s still picking mindlessly at his guitar strings. He’s not entirely aware of what the others are doing. Well, he’s pretty sure Cas has got his eyes fixed on Dean, but he’s not positive on that point. He’s more focused on figuring out how a song starts. He’s heard it on the radio a couple of times. Not his typical type of music, but it’s a nice song. He’s pretty sure he’s got the chords down, now if only he could just remember how the lyrics go.... Ah, yes.

 

_“I’ve been trying to do it right_

_“I’ve been living a lonely life_

_“I’ve been sleeping here instead_

_“I’ve been sleeping in my bed,_

_“I've been sleeping in my bed”_

 

A couple other voices, Dean’s pretty sure it’s Benny and Victor, catch on and join in with the “ho hey”s. Sam joins in on the chorus, and Dean looks up to see his brother giving him a weird sort of smile. Maybe it’s just because it’s not Dean’s typical music, but it feels like there’s a little more behind that expression.

 

_“So show me family_

_“All the blood that I will bleed_

_“I dunno where I belong_

_“I dunno where I went wrong,_

_“But I can write a song”_

 

Dean spares a quick glance at Cas. He’s got a nice, soft smile (tally mark), his eyes closed and head nodding to the beat. Something odd bubbles in Dean’s stomach, and he looks away quickly, smiling over at Benny and Victor.

 

_“I belong with you, you belong with me_

_"You’re my sweetheart_

_“I belong with you, you belong with me_

_"You’re my sweet”_

 

_“I don’t think you’re right for him_

_“Think of what it might have been if you_

_“Took a bus to Chinatown_

_“I’d be standing on Canal, and Bowery_

_“And she’d be standing next to me”_

 

_“I belong with you, you belong with me_

_"You’re my sweetheart_

_“I belong with you, you belong with me_

_"You’re my sweetheart”_

 

Dean looks back over to Sam and luckily the kid’s gotten lost in the music by now. He’s got that goofy grin that reminds Dean of back before Sam decided he had to hold so much on his shoulders. He’s even thrown his head back a bit, crooning to the ceiling. Dean can’t help but grin.

 

_“And love, we need it now_

_“Let’s hope for some_

_“Cause oh, we’re bleeding out”_

 

_“I belong with you, you belong with me_

_"You’re my sweetheart_

_“I belong with you, you belong with me_

_"You’re my sweet”_

 

Dean’s gaze drifts back to Cas during the last chorus and that odd something completely overtakes his stomach, creeping up to his throat and cutting him off maybe a little earlier than he should. Cas’s eyes have opened, and he’s looking right back at Dean, and it’s like a goddamned tractor beam or something because Dean _cannot_ look away. God, he doesn’t want Cas to leave tomorrow. Fuck. When did he even give the guy a nickname? But, dammit, they’ve become friends in the past couple days, and if Cas leaves.... Who’s to say they’d ever see each other again? And The Vessels would go back to auditioning people and end up with some other shmuck who just would not measure up to Cas, and son of a bitch, when did this happen?

Benny and Victor finish up the “ho hey”s as Dean fumbles a bit with the guitar. Victor sets his beer down on the coffee table in front of him with a clink before standing up.

“Well, I don’t know about you, but I’m ready for some sleep.”

Sam nods, getting to his feet as well, Benny and Cas close behind him. There’s the scattered agreements and “good night”s before people start leaving, but Dean’s still rooted to his seat, mind still whirling. He doesn’t want Cas to leave. He doesn’t want Cas to _leave_. He doesn’t want _Cas_ to leave. He’s so wrapped up in his thoughts that he jumps a little when Sam says his name in a tone that makes it sound like he’s been trying to get Dean’s attention. Dean looks up, blinking wildly.

“What?”

“So,” is all Sam says, arms folding across his chest. Dean looks blankly at him.

“What?”

Sam gives him a long suffering sigh with a bit of an eye roll. “Castiel.”

Oh. Well. Yeah. Dean sort of should’ve figured that. Dean grits his teeth, swallowing heavily as he gets to his feet, avoiding Sam’s eyes at all costs. “He can stay.”

Dean can practically feel Sam’s face splitting into a pleased grin before he claps Dean on the shoulder hard enough Dean stumbles a little. “Fantastic. I’ll let Bobby and Charlie know first thing in the morning, and then we can start working on a setlist.”

Dean nods numbly. He’s still lost in the revelation that he actually wants Cas to stick around. Sam grabs him by the shoulders, shaking him a bit, and Dean indulges him by actually meeting his gaze. Jesus Christ, the kid looks excited.

“The boys are back in town.”

Dean smirks at that. “I bet Cas could arrange that. That’s our opener.”

Sam’s eyes goes wide. “You serious?”

Dean shrugs. “Why not? It’ll be awesome.”


	4. Hey Jude

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In the meantime, rehearsals are moving along. They all feel pretty solid on the setlist and their parts (Benny is loving being able to beatbox the entire time), and Bobby puts together a dress rehearsal, inviting a handful of diehard fans to be their trial audience. It’s a pretty relaxed environment backstage until the lights start going out and it’s suddenly dark, and the air is buzzing like a full concert. Charlie’s running around doing last minute adjustments to makeup (mainly powder for the lighting) and wardrobe while Bobby starts announcing them over the intercom.
> 
> “After a short hiatus, The Vessels are back in town with a new member on the team, baritone Castiel Novak!”

Dean wakes up early the next morning for no good reason. He’s a little annoyed by it, to be honest. But after a few minutes of tossing and turning, trying to go back to sleep and utterly failing, he gives up and grabs his guitar, tiptoeing to the roof. He realizes when he gets there just how early it is. The sun’s barely up, light just peaking over the trees. Birds are beginning to wake, chirping happily. It’s all a little cliche, but it’s peaceful. Even more peaceful than the roof normally is. And it’s exactly what Dean needs right now.

He leans up against the house, aimlessly plucking at the strings of his guitar and tuning, trying to figure out Cas. And everything related to Cas. God, the guy had been strange. Still is, really. The whole jerking around from extreme expression to hidden behind a mask thing still throws Dean every time. Last night had been easy, transition from song to song so fluid that Cas never really threw the mask back up until they were all saying good night.

And since when had Dean changed his mind about the guy? He’d said no and was so sure and so set about it, that Castiel Novak was _not_ who The Vessels were looking for. Dean thinks back over the past few days, trying to pinpoint when he changed his mind, and he can’t. Even after that first day on the roof, the mask thing was still too much, Cas still too awkward, so on. Dean jumps a little when the window is pulled open, Cas poking his head through. Cas finds Dean and smiles (tally) before climbing out to crawl over and sit next to Dean.

“You changed your mind,” he says quietly in greeting. Dean peers at Cas’s face, trying to read something, anything, in his expression. But there’s nothing.

“Sam already talked to you.”

“Mr. Singer did, actually.”

“Dude, seriously. You’re part of the family now,” Dean says quickly. “His name’s Bobby.”

“Bobby,” Cas concedes with an incline of his head. “Sam and Victor also gave me their congratulations and said they’re looking forward to working with me.”

“You don’t seem very excited,” Dean says. It’s just the usual unreadable mask, though Cas does smile a bit weakly and shrugs.

“I am, I’m just a little more nervous right now. I’m supposed to raise The Vessels from perdition more or less. It’s a lot of pressure.”

Dean chuckles. “Pretty sure we won’t go to hell if this doesn’t work out. And, really, it doesn’t all rest on your shoulders. The Vessels are a group. We all put one hundred percent in.”

Cas nods. “But will the audience see it that way?”

He has a valid point, Dean can’t deny that, so he doesn’t answer the question directly.

“They’ll love you, Cas. They’ll love the fact you’ll be arranging a lot of our setlist, too,” Dean says, knocking Cas on the shoulder. “Speaking of, we’re gonna open with _The Boys Are Back In Town_. Can you do that?”

Cas’s smile is amused this time. “That’s appropriate.”

Dean grins. “That’s what _I_ thought.”

“I assume we’ll be doing _Ramble On_ as well?”

“Of course. We’re gonna showcase you as much as we can without making it a Castiel Novak concert instead of The Vessels.”

Cas’s expression shifts a bit, eyebrows raised ever so slightly, but Dean still can’t figure what it could mean. Cas doesn’t say anything either to give him some sort of clue. His expression slides back into neutral, and he pulls his notebook and pen to his lap.

“ _The Boys Are Back In Town_ ,” he mutters as he writes. “Anything else I should start working on?”

They start discussing the setlist, though Dean knows they really should wait to discuss with the rest of the group. It’s not like this is set in stone, Dean reasons with himself. They’re just writing down some ideas to run by everyone else later.

They’ve got maybe a good first act and a handful of songs for Cas to arrange by the time the window opens and Sam’s floppy hair pokes out.

“You two better not be working on a setlist,” he says, but he’s obviously amused so Dean just shrugs.

“What if we are?”

Sam rolls his eyes dramatically before jerking his head towards the indoors. “C’mon. Charlie wants to start working on Castiel’s look so we can get a new photoshoot done asap. I think she wants you to wear that blue tie you wore during your audition.”

“Of course she does,” Dean says, rolling his eyes. He nudges Cas, shifting his guitar in his grip. “You’re gonna want to get this over with. Charlie can get a little ridiculous about these things.”

* * *

The next few weeks are spent getting ready for the photoshoot and doing the photoshoot with Charlie, working on publicity with Bobby, and putting together a setlist and rehearsing with the group. Cas seems a little overwhelmed by the pace of everything, and Dean doesn’t blame him. Luckily everyone gives him a break, and he ends up adjusting pretty quickly. Things are going smoothly when Charlie announces the photos they took are ready, and they all need to help her pick out which ones to use. They end up all agreeing on only two of the over a hundred taken, but they don’t really need that many. Bobby ends up picking out a couple more to use on the website, but the main two are the ones they’ll use for most of the publicity.

The first one’s incredibly similar to one of the old photos they used. It’s just the five of them, all standing there looking at the camera, looking somewhat professional yet relaxed. The second one is Dean’s favorite, though. When it was taken, they’d been almost done with the photoshoot and things were spiraling out of control quickly. They’d been there for hours and all of them were sick and tired of posing all day. Dean hadn’t even know the cameraman was still taking pictures. Benny had just launched himself into Sam’s arms, and Sam had actually caught him barely in time. In the picture Benny’s looking extremely pleased and amused with himself, and Sam’s letting out a shocked shout of laughter. Meanwhile Cas had just made a comment in an undertone about the whole ordeal of the photoshoot that had been unexpectedly funny, and Dean had busted out a loud guffaw. Cas looks a little surprised at Dean’s reaction, but he’s definitely smiling a bit to himself, pleased. Victor’s in the middle of it all, trying desperately to be the disapproving mature adult but failing. Somehow when it’s all put together makes a really good picture. Bobby’s even talking about using it for the next album cover.

In the meantime, rehearsals are moving along. They all feel pretty solid on the setlist and their parts (Benny is loving being able to beatbox the entire time), and Bobby puts together a dress rehearsal, inviting a handful of diehard fans to be their trial audience. It’s a pretty relaxed environment backstage until the lights start going out and it’s suddenly dark, and the air is buzzing like a full concert. Charlie’s running around doing last minute adjustments to makeup (mainly powder for the lighting) and wardrobe while Bobby starts announcing them over the intercom.

“After a short hiatus, The Vessels are back in town with a new member on the team, baritone Castiel Novak!”

Dean gives him an encouraging grin before pushing him towards the stage. Cas stumbles a bit but manages to right himself before he’s in the light, a warm smile on his face as he waves at the audience.

“Welcome to the stage, everyone’s favorite beatboxer, Benny Lafitte!”

Benny’s yelling into his microphone before he’s even on stage, which thoroughly thrills the audience into screams despite their small numbers. Charlie moves from fixing Victor’s shirt, gives Sam an appraising look before giving him a quick nod of approval (the bastard rarely ever has Charlie’s meddling hands all over him--apparently he can roll out of bed and look perfect), and then she’s in front of Dean.

“And who can forget the bone rattling bass notes from Victor Henrikson!”

Charlie’s fingers are brushing through Dean’s hair, and he frowns petulantly at her. “Is this really necessary?” he hisses quietly. Charlie only shakes her head, frowning in concentration.

“The fangirls would have a riot if your hair wasn’t perfect, and I can guarantee you at least three quarters of that audience is fangirls.”

“Sam Winchester, whose falsetto is enough to make any girl swoon!”

Sam’s shaking his head in chagrin at Bobby, but he quickly throws up his winning smile before jogging out on stage.

“Charlie, I need to grab my mic,” Dean says urgently, trying to back away from her hands. A couple more brush throughs with her fingers and she steps back finally, satisfied.

“Okay. Go. Break a leg.”

Dean blows her a kiss and snatches his microphone from the box just as Bobby’s voice rings out with,

“And, finally, the one and only lead tenor, Dean Winchester!”

The lights are always a bit blinding when he first steps out onto the stage and the screams are definitely a bit impressive for a smaller audience. Dean supposes that’s what you get when you specifically put together an audience of enthusiastic fans. He blinks rapidly to let his eyes adjust and when he does, he sees both Benny and Sam looking at him with odd expressions. Victor’s clearly intentionally not looking at him, trying to stay in performance mode and interacting with the audience. Cas just looks confused. Bobby’s still talking, making some announcement about no flash photography or whatever, but Dean’s not paying attention because something’s wrong, and he has no idea what it could be.

It takes him a moment, but he manages to shrug it off as Bobby wraps up and the lights start changing. Sam and Benny pull themselves back together, and Cas must too, but Dean’s turned back to the audience so he doesn’t actually see. And then they’re off, _The Boys Are Back In Town_ causing the audience’s screams to swell up again.

Dean almost forgets about the strange expressions from Sam and Benny. The rehearsal’s going better than any of the concerts they’d had for months. Maybe that’s because of the fans, but it still does wonders for Dean’s anxiety about the future of The Vessels. The last song of the first act has darker lighting so it’s easier to see out into the audience. Benny gives them a solid rhythm to work with, and Dean falls into the lyrics so easily he doesn’t have to give it a thought.

 

_“Hey Jude, don’t make it bad,_

_“take a sad song and make it better._

_“Remember to let her into your heart,_

_“then you can start to make it better.”_

 

It’s only then that Dean suddenly realizes why something had been so obviously wrong earlier. And it’s a damn good thing Dean knows this song better than he knows the back of his own hand. He still probably stutters or squeaks or something ridiculous because, goddammit Bobby, _what the hell_. In the third row, over to stage left a bit, sitting all by herself and smiling like she doesn’t even realize she’s smiling. He hadn't even recognized her until now, with the lights and how long it's been. But that's Emma. That's his daughter.

 

_"Jude, don’t be afraid,_

_“you were made to go out and get her._

_“The minute you let her under your skin,_

_“then you begin to make it better.”_

 

And, god, this is just made so much worse by the fact that he’s singing fucking _Hey Jude_. He tries to deny it nine times out of ten, but it’s a kind of emotional song for him. Yeah, he was only four when his mom died, but he still remembers her tucking him in at night, singing _Hey Jude_. She never sang any of type of traditional lullaby. _Hey Jude_ was her favorite Beatles song. So that was always Dean’s lullaby. Granted, it’s one of those memories that’s so faded by time and age that half the time he’s not sure if he made it up or not, but he’s pretty sure his dad at least told him that that had happened. He knows it was her favorite Beatles song anyway.

And now he’s basically singing it to his own fucking daughter. And a whole auditorium of other audience members, but now that’s he’s aware she’s there and he can see her and she’s looking right at him, his attention is zeroing in straight on her, and no matter how hard he tries to look away, get distracted, his eyes keep traveling back to where she’s sitting.

Fuck.

 

_“And anytime you feel the pain,_

_"hey Jude, refrain,_

_“don’t carry the world upon your shoulders."_

 

_“For well, you know that it’s a fool_

_"who plays it cool_

_“by making his world a little colder.”_

 

_“Hey Jude, don’t let me down._

_“You have found her, now go and get her._

_“Remember to let her into your heart,_

_“then you can start to make it better.”_

 

Dean can suddenly feel Sam’s eyes on him. Gotta hand it to him, though, it’s only a brief glance before he’s back to being professional. But then there’s Benny’s gaze that Dean can actually see out of the corner of his eye. And the prickling sensation of Sam’s look is back. Benny looks away and so does Sam, but then, oh good, Victor’s joining in on the “let’s drive Dean crazy” fest too. Sam again. Benny almost trips during his next glance, which is totally graceful, and Dean would tease the hell out of him for it if he weren’t having a not-really-staring contest with Emma.

Then, just to make it all even better, Emma seems to realize Dean’s honed in on her. Her smile widens, and she even raises her hand to give a little wiggle of her fingers. She’s fucking _waving_ at him during a fucking _dress rehearsal_ while he’s fucking crooning fucking _Hey Jude_ and fucking son of a fucking bitch born in a heaping pile of fucking shit fuck.

And now Dean can feel Cas’s eyes on him.

 

_“So let it out and let it in_

_"hey Jude, begin, you’re waiting for someone to perform with._

_“And don’t you know that it’s just you?_

_"Hey Jude, you’ll do, the movement you need is on your shoulder."_

 

_“Na na na na na na na na na.”_

 

God, Cas. Cas is probably confused as hell right now, isn’t he? It’s not like Dean’s mentioned he has a daughter. Not really something that comes up much. To be honest, Dean kinda tries to avoid the topic. Forget about it most of the time. It’s just easier to deal with that way. And it’s not like Cas is an idiot. He’s going to have noticed Sam, Benny and Victor giving Dean edgy looks the entire rehearsal. And Dean’s pretty sure his little stutter there when he finally saw Emma wasn’t as subtle as he hopes. Cas’ll probably come to the conclusion there’s someone in the audience that Dean knows. Someone he wasn’t expecting. Someone he has some sort of a history with so that it’s something the other guys tread lightly around. An ex or something, maybe.

Dean is wrenched out of that thinking, though, when he notices Emma’s mouth is moving. Is she trying to say something to him? That would be a bit stupid, especially while he’s singing. What is she...? It hits him hard, and he’s definitely stuttering this time, thank god for Sam and Cas who do their best to cover for him. Emma’s singing along.

 

_“Hey Jude, don’t make it bad,_

_“take a sad song and make it better._

_“Remember to let her under your skin,_

_“then you’ll begin to make it better better better better better better oh!”_

 

The only reason Dean even is aware that Sam absolutely kills it on the high note is because the audience erupts, a wave of noise crashing against Dean as he tries to regain his composure. Emma isn’t as thrilled by Sam’s falsetto as the rest of the audience. She’s still nodding her head ever so slightly to the beat, smiling and singing along, gazing easily back at Dean. She seems so relaxed, yet Dean feels so tense. Why is she even _here_? Not just at the rehearsal (that’s all on Bobby’s head) but in the city? Dean’s pretty sure her mom’s back in Kansas, right? And Emma’s only, what? Fourteen? Sixteen, now? Something like that. Not old enough to be in fucking Las Vegas alone, that’s for sure. Where is her mom? Dean’s not entirely positive he wants to know the answer to that question, really.

Dean manages to pull himself back together enough to suffer through a thousand “na na na”s and “hey Jude”s, but as soon as the lights are out, Dean is storming off the stage, tossing his mic in the box, making a beeline for where Bobby’ll be announcing the fifteen minute intermission. Dean slams the door open just as Bobby’s finishing his announcements. Bobby flinches a bit as the door bangs against the wall, but it’s Bobby so he composes himself pretty quickly. In fact, he looks like he knows exactly what Dean’s going to say before Dean can say it.

“The fuck were you--”

“Calm down, boy, I--”

“Just letting her come without telling me--”

“It was a last minute thing, if you would just--”

“Completely bombed that last song because I didn’t realize--”

“If you were a little less emotionally constipated--”

“Oh, that’s rich, coming from, you old drunk son of a bitch!”

“You shut your mouth, boy, and listen to me!” Bobby roars, making Dean stumble backwards a bit from the shock. Bobby just glares at him for a few moments, huffing loudly, before rolling his eyes dramatically.

“I am sorry I didn’t tell you Emma would be here. I didn’t even know she’d be here myself, though, until late last night. She emailed me last minute, asking if she could come. Dunno how she found out about the rehearsal, but what can you do? I meant to tell you this morning, but things were a bit chaotic getting ready.” Bobby fixes him with a stare that makes Dean shift uncomfortably. It would probably be easier to be angry at Bobby if he weren’t basically a second father to him.

“The hell is she doing in town?”

“How would I know?” He looks irritated at the question. “All I know I just told you. Now get. You need to calm down before you get back on stage.”

Dean doesn’t move for a second, trying to find something else to throw at Bobby. But Bobby’s already turned away, shuffling through papers, supposedly getting ready for the second act. He’s not going to respond to Dean anymore at this point, that much is obvious. Curling and uncurling his hands into fists, Dean turns on his heel and stalks back out the door, only to come to a skidding halt a few steps into the hallway.

Pacing a few steps back and forth, hands clutching a small purse, is Emma. She turns from her pacing to start back towards Dean, sees him, and comes to a sudden stop, a nervous smile playing on her lips. Dean, meanwhile, is frozen. She was nine or ten the last time he saw her. Just a kid. She’s grown now. He noticed that on stage, yeah, but out here, in the light and up close, it’s so much more obvious and it’s freaking him out a little. Well, more so than he already was. She’s a good foot and a half taller. Lost a good bit of baby fat. She seems to have a sense of style, too. God, she’s wearing _makeup_. His baby girl is wearing _makeup_.

Apparently Dean’s been staring for too long, because Emma looks down at her feet, shuffling slightly, before looking up again with a shy,

“Hey.”

Something in Dean relaxes and he smiles crookedly. “Hey.”

“I like the new guy,” she says, her smile widening, encouraged by Dean’s response. Dean chuckles dryly.

“Yeah, he’s pretty cool.” Not exactly a topic he wants to explore further with his daughter but hey. It’s quiet again, and Dean’s wracking his brain for a conversation starter.

“How are you?” Lame, Winchester. Lame. She smiles again, shrugging.

“I’m good.”

“How’s your mom?” Maybe not the best thing to discuss but at least it’s something.

“She’s... Well, you know. She’s good, I guess.” She looks a little amused. Dean’s not sure if it’s because of the question itself or it’s something about her mother. Could be either, really. Lydia.... Well. Yeah.

Emma brightens suddenly, like she’s finally found something to move the conversation along. “She’s engaged, actually. Planning for a fall wedding.”

“Oh?” Dean has no idea how he’s supposed to react to that. It’s mildly interesting, he guesses. He doesn’t really know Lydia that well. Insane one night stand that had lasting consequences. He probably knows Emma better than he knows Lydia actually.

Emma nods. Dean grapples for something else to say.

“He a good guy?” That’s actually something he’d like to know, now that he thinks about it. If this guy is engaged to Lydia, he’s probably living with them. At least he will be eventually, anyway. And if he’s a jerk or abusive or anything.... Well. Dean’ll tear the son of a bitch a new one for starters.

Emma’s shrugging again, which isn’t that comforting. “He’s fine. To be honest, I don’t think he’ll last til the wedding. He’s an investment banker or something like that so he’s loaded, so Mom likes him for now, but it’s Mom. He’s actually why I’m in town, though. He brought her out for a vacation, and they dragged me along.” Another shrug. “But they’ve been out just the two of them most of the time so whatever.”

Dean’s nodding, reassured, until the last sentence. “Wait, they’re just leaving you to wander alone in the city all day?”

“Oh, god, no! Mom’s got a sister who lives here, so I’ve been hanging out with her mostly.”

“Oh. Good.” Dean goes quiet again, not sure what else to say. “How’s school?”

“Well, it’s the middle of the summer, so...” She’s grinning at him, amused. Dean shakes his head, face twisted.

“Sorry, yeah. What grade you going into?”

“Sophomore.”

Dean’s eyebrows shoot up. Yeah, okay, he’d figured an estimate of her age, but he hadn’t added together what all that meant. High school. Sophomore year. Jesus. Last time he’d seen her she still was in elementary school. Little girl in pigtails.

“High school. Wow.”

Emma ducks her head. “Yeah, I like it. I’m looking forward to college, though. Trying for an early graduation.”

Dean raises his eyebrows. So she’s turned into a beautiful little lady and a smart one, too. “What do you want to study?”

“Something with history. Mythology. Dead languages. Stuff like that.”

“Yeah? Sounds cool--” Dean cuts off as the lights turn off and on a couple times, signalling the end of intermission. He looks up at the lights, annoyed. The conversation was just starting to get some good headway. He turns his gaze back to Emma.

“I should get backstage.”

Her smile’s more forced, but she nods. “And I should get back to my seat.”

Dean shifts uncomfortably. He can’t just leave it there. He can’t. “Look, do you have a cell?”

Emma nods, catching on immediately, and pulls out a small little phone from the purse she’s been clutching. Dean gives her his number quickly. “Text me with your number, and we’ll go out for lunch or something before you leave town, okay? And....” He hesitates. “And if you ever need anything, _anything_ , just call. Okay?”

And that’s the best smile Emma’s given him. She absolutely radiates and, wow. That’s his _daughter_ right there, gorgeous, smart, and put together. She nods enthusiastically. “Okay.”

Dean nods, moving to hurry backstage, but Emma stops him.

“Wait. I--” She cuts off, looking awkwardly at her feet. Then suddenly she’s got her arms wrapped around Dean’s middle, her face pressed into his chest. It takes a moment, but Dean manages to gather himself enough to hug her back, trying hard to ignore the lump in his throat.

“It’s good to see you again, Dad.”

“You too,” Dean says gruffly around the lump that grows about three times larger at the word “Dad”. She pulls back, giving him a quick kiss on the cheek.

“And tell that Castiel guy good luck from me, okay?” And then she’s turning away, hurrying back into the auditorium.

It takes a few moments before Dean collects himself and runs back to backstage. He stops, though, as he opens the door, overhearing Benny’s voice.

“...Yeah, and he came back totally smashed the next mornin'. Don’t think it was just the hangover, think she worked him over pretty hard.”

“He bit off more than he could chew with her,” (that’s Sam) “and nine months later--”

The anger from earlier comes back in full force, and Dean storms through the door to where the others are. Sam and Benny look up, guilt written in every angle of their bodies. Victor doesn’t seem too worried, probably wasn’t paying much attention in the first place, but Cas just looks like a scared little animal with no idea which way to turn. Dean ignores all of them.

“Break’s over,” he growls. “Back on stage.”


	5. Up To My Neck In You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean does _not_ glance at Cas, and Cas is murmuring the lyrics. Dean rolls down the window, singing (well, does AC/DC count as singing?) along. And Dean _doesn’t_ grin widely when Cas notices him glancing and raises an eyebrow. Cas shakes his head, smiling (tally) and indicates in front of them.
> 
> “Eyes on the road, Dean,” he says just loud enough to be heard.

Once Dean loses himself in the music he’s able to calm down again. So maybe he gives Benny and Sam a bit of a cold shoulder. But for the most part the rest of the rehearsal goes without a hitch. In fact, it goes even better than that. When the lights go down after their last song, Dean is practically bouncing off the stage. He throws his mic down and bounds to where Charlie is waiting with a grin, picking her up and twirling her around.

“We’re back, Charlie!” he crows over her peals of laughter. “The Vessels are back!”

Everyone is in a similar mood, the stage high enough that Dean actually gives Sam and Benny a high-five. That’s about the extent of his friendliness, though. Sam looks at annoyed at Dean, but Dean honestly couldn't care less right now. They all start cleaning up, packing to go back home, when Dean pulls Cas aside.

“Told you they’d love you,” he says with a grin, clapping him on the shoulder. Cas gives him a small smile (tally mark), and Dean can’t be sure in this lighting, but he thinks Cas’s ears are a bit pinker too. That could just be adrenaline, though.

“I did enjoy myself,” Cas agrees.

“Good! Emma, my daughter,” Dean clarifies quickly since he has no idea how much Sam and Benny told him, “said she liked you. Told me to wish you good luck.”

Cas inclines his head. “I appreciate that.”

Dean stifles a sigh. The guy is like Fort Knox. “So, look, Cas, I was wondering if you could work on something for me.”

Cas raises an eyebrow which Dean takes as an indication to keep going.

“So you’re really great about emoting and stuff on stage and whenever you’re singing,” Dean starts, “and it’s awesome because people can tell you really care and love what you’re doing, but as soon as you’re done? It’s like you shut down or something, and you’re completely unreadable.” Dean pauses, waiting to see if Cas gets what he’s saying. But, no, of course he gets nothing. Dean gestures at the stoic expression.

“Like right now. I have no idea what you’re thinking, dude. Which would be weird enough if you didn’t switch it off and on like a lightswitch. It’s just unsettling.” Dean pauses again, but Cas still isn’t giving him anything. “Can I get at least some sort of verbal clue that you’re getting me?”

Cas blinks owlishly at him before giving a slow nod. “Okay.”

It’s not much, but it’s something.

“Awesome.” Dean gives him a grin in a feeble attempt to loosen up the poor guy. Jesus. “It’s just once we get out there again and fans start meeting you offstage and stuff, I don’t want them turned off you because of the weird difference.” With nothing from Cas and nothing left to add, Dean starts to turn away to help Victor with the mics.

“Dean.”

Dean turns back, a bit surprised. “Yeah?”

It takes Cas a moment, and Dean gets the impression Cas is wrestling with himself. For all he knows, however, that could just be his imagination.

“Is this issue...” he finally starts, then stops and restarts. “Is it why you said no at first?”

Oh. Ah. Well. That’s a subject they haven’t really acknowledged much. Dean really hasn’t felt the need. Plus, he feels a bit awkward about it, especially now they’re such good friends.

“Well,” he says, shifting uncomfortably. “Yeah. I thought you were strange, Cas. Still do, actually, it’s just something I came to like.”

Cas nods, and he looks like maybe he’s trying to show some sort of emotion, but all it really does is make him look like he’s sick. He’s making an effort, though, and Dean has to give him that.

* * *

Bobby gives them the next couple days off, saying all the rehearsals paid off and they deserve a bit of rest before they get cracking on recording the next album. They want to get an album put together to sell at the concert so it’ll be a while yet before The Vessels are really out there again. With the days off they finally have the time to fully move Cas in. They spend the whole next day doing just that, all five of them pitching in despite Dean continuing to be cold towards Sam and Benny. Throughout the day Cas makes a visible effort to be more expressive. It looks difficult for him, but Dean tries to make it clear he’s appreciating the effort. And, really, he does. It’s nice to not be completely in the dark about Cas’s thoughts.

Moving Cas in takes up pretty much the entire day, and they all crash that night into a deep sleep. The next morning, Dean wakes up with the rest of the house still asleep (as is usual, really) and goes downstairs to the kitchen to make himself a nice breakfast. He’s in the middle of an omelette stuffed to the brim with ham, tomatoes, peppers, a variety of cheeses, and a number of other things he found in the fridge, when Cas comes staggering in. Dean has to stifle laughter, not doing a very good job at it, at Cas’s appearance. He’s wearing a pair of blue gym shorts and a thin grey t-shirt with holes that’s way too big for him. His eyes are mostly shut, squinting and glaring at everything in sight, and his hair is sticking up in all the wrong directions, making it look even messier than usual.

“Good morning, Cas,” Dean greets, trying to hold back his grin. Cas merely grunts as he begins to fiddle with the coffee maker.

“Do you like omelettes?” Dean asks, a smirk playing on his lips as Cas fights with the coffee maker. Cas doesn’t seem to hear him, though, too focused on his plight. Dean goes over and gets the machine working for him.

“You gotta do everything just so with this thing,” he says. “Probably got lucky before now. Really we should just buy a new one.”

“Infernal machine,” Cas growls, and _Christ_. Cas’s voice is normally low and gravelly but, son of a bitch, his morning voice is just _not fair_. Dean has to take a moment before he can talk again without embarrassing himself. Oh, and shit, he’s got to get back to his omelette.

“I’m making myself an omelette. You want one?” he asks, rushing back to the stove and checking the food. It’s still good, he sees with relief, and flips it over.

“Sure,” Cas says, trudging to a chair and setting his head down on the table.

“What do you like on yours?”

“Just cheddar and tomato,” Cas mumbles, so slurred Dean has to strain to understand him. “Maybe some bacon if you have it.”

“That I can do,” Dean says, pleased. Bacon sounds wonderful now that he’s thought of it. Dean finishes his own omelette and slides it to a plate before getting ready to make Cas’s and the bacon. It’s fairly quiet as he cooks, humming Supertramp’s _Goodbye Stranger_ to himself. Cas only stirs when the coffee’s ready, stumbling over to it with a mug he grabs from the cupboard. Dean hands him his omelette as Cas sips at his coffee, eyes already opening just a bit more.

“Not a morning person, huh?”

“Not particularly,” Cas grumbles, taking the fork Dean offers him and digging in. “This is fantastic, thank you. You’re really quite the chef.”

Dean feels his cheeks redden a bit which is a little absurd, really. “Thanks. I just like cooking, I guess. Wouldn’t say I’m amazing, but thanks. I guess.” He shuts up before he can stammer out more ridiculousness.

Victor enters at that point, following his nose to the bacon. “I hope you made enough for the whole house.”

“What am I, stupid?” Dean scoffs. “Help yourself.”

Victor does eagerly, then, through a mouthful, says, “Got any plans for today?”

Dean shrugs. He’d been assuming he’d just hang out on the roof with his guitar. And Cas, of course. “Not really. Why? You got something in mind?”

“I was thinking of going to the range after taking a shower. Whaddya think?”

“Yeah!” Dean says eagerly. It’s been a while since he and Victor have had the chance to go to the range. He’ll have gotten rusty by now.

“The range?” Cas asks curiously.

“The gun range,” Dean clarifies, and suddenly he’s not so positive he wants to go. But if Cas comes.... “Wanna join us?”

“I--” Cas frowns, clearly thinking it over. Dean’s thoughts have strayed to what it'll be like teaching Cas how to shoot, and god please, let him say yes. “Why not.”

“Awesome,” Dean says with maybe a little too much enthusiasm. He shovels the last few mouthfuls of egg and ham in his mouth. “I call first shower.”

* * *

After the three of them have eaten and showered, they pile in Dean’s treasured Chevy Impala. Victor climbs in the back without a word as Cas stops, frowning at the car.

“It looks a little old,” he comments as if he doesn’t trust it to hold up.

“Hey!” Dean exclaims. “Don’t hate on my baby! I take good care of her, I’ll have you know.”

Cas doesn’t look entirely convinced but gets in anyway. Dean climbs in as well, cranking up the volume on the stereo a tad as he turns on the car.

“So it’s an AC/DC day,” Victor comments with an amused smile. Dean grins back at him through the rearview mirror.

“Damn right.”

Dean drums the steering wheel all the way through the first few songs, totally not paying attention to Cas’s soft little smile (tally) and the way his lips sometimes move to the lyrics. _Up To My Neck In You_ comes on and, for some reason Dean can’t explain, he cranks it up even more.

 

_“well I been up to my neck in trouble_

_“up to my neck in strife_

_“up to my neck in misery_

_“for most of my life_

_“I’ve been a fool_

_“And you know what a fool can do_

_“I’m telling you_

_“you came along when I needed you_

_“now I’m up_

_“I’m up to my neck in you”_

 

Dean does _not_ glance at Cas, and Cas is murmuring the lyrics. Dean rolls down the window, singing (well, does AC/DC count as singing?) along. And Dean _doesn’t_ grin widely when Cas notices him glancing and raises an eyebrow. Cas shakes his head, smiling (tally) and indicates in front of them.

“Eyes on the road, Dean,” he says just loud enough to be heard.

 

_“and I been up to my neck in pleasure_

_“up to my neck in pain_

_“I been up to my neck on the railroad track_

_“waitin’ for the train_

_“to cruise on through_

_“I figured my time was due_

_“it’s way over due_

_“you come along and you pull me through_

_“now I’m up_

_“up to my neck in you_

_“don’t it feel good”_

 

It’s been too long, Dean decides, since he’s been able to just blast his music and drive his car, some of his favorite people riding along with him. Maybe it’s a bit strange Cas has gotten to that status so quickly, especially considering how things started out, but Dean finds he can’t be bothered by it right now. Life is good at this moment, strumming one-handed along to an air guitar, and thinking too hard would ruin it.

 

_“I been up to my neck in whiskey_

_“I been up to my neck in wine_

_“I been up to my neck in wishin’_

_“that this neck wasn’t mine_

_“I’m a loser_

_“that ain’t lost it_

_“baby you were too good_

_“to be true_

_“what you done no one else can do_

_“now I’m up_

_“up to my neck in you”_

 

And judging by how relaxed Cas looks and the smile shining even in those baby blues, Dean’s willing to bet they’re on the same page. Content, happy even, to be right here with each other. Looking forward to tomorrow, to when The Vessels get back out there, to when the world realizes how awesome Castiel Novak is. To spending the foreseeable future right where they are.

Together, making music.

 

_“it feels good_

_“you came along when I needed you_

_“I’m up to my neck in you”_

 

“All right,” Victor says as the music fades. “Turn it back down or Bobby’ll chew you out for killing our ears. We need those, you know.”

To be honest Dean had almost forgotten Victor was there, which he adds to the list of things to not explore further. Dean throws him a cheeky grin through the mirror before turning the volume back down. But that doesn’t stop Dean from enjoying the rest of the drive.

At the shooting range Victor and Dean rummage in the Impala’s trunk for their favorite handguns. Cas stands to the side for a while looking a bit lost. When Dean and Victor realize this Victor grabs a barely used 9mm and hands it to Cas.

“Here. You can use this one.”

Cas’s hand is halfway to the gun before Dean stops him, holding out his own Colt 1911.

“Use this instead. Trustworthy old thing. That 9mm’s barely been touched.”

Dean ignores the look Victor gives him in favor of giving Cas an encouraging smile as he take the gun from him. Dean snatches an extra handgun for himself, and they all enter the large building. They set themselves up, Dean giving Cas a hand. Though it doesn’t really seem Cas needs it. Probably is all a little more self-explanatory than he realizes, Dean reasons. He starts to show Cas the basics of firing a gun when suddenly Cas cocks, aims, and shoots his target three times in quick succession. It’s silent for a moment as Cas frowns at the target, and then presses the button to bring it closer. Both Dean and Victor lean forward to see better. Two shots right between the eyes, a third in the chest. Again, silence.

And then Victor bursts out laughing. Dean’s a little too stunned to really pay attention to Victor having to hold himself up from the force of his laughter. Cas finally looks away from the target and the gun in his hand to frown at Victor and then Dean.

“What?” he asks, perfectly innocently. Dean doesn’t even attempt to answer. He’s trying too hard to ignore the fact that his jeans have gotten tighter and just... just.... Jesus _fuck_. Cas’s frown deepens, annoyed.

“What?” he asks again, this time directing the question towards Victor, apparently understanding that Dean was unable to answer. Victor’s wiping away tears, clutching his stomach.

“We thought,” he gasps, wheezing. “Just we... God, Castiel... You’re all so cute and innocent....”

Dean twitches a bit at the term “cute”.

“You’re positively lethal!” Victor finally manages before cracking up again. Cas squints at him, still looking confused, and turns back to Dean. Suddenly Dean realizes his mouth is hanging wide open and shuts it with a snap.

“Is that really all?” Cas asks pointedly to Dean. Dean manages to give a sort of frantic nod. Cas positively _pouts_.

“I was studying law enforcement just like you two before I auditioned,” he tells them, like they should’ve known that. Which, okay, maybe they should’ve, Dean has no idea. It’s possible Cas mentioned it at some point, but obviously Dean hadn’t remembered it because that had been one of the most shocking things he’d ever experienced.

It takes a bit, but both Victor and Dean manage to calm themselves down (though, granted, for completely different reasons), and the rest of the time was spent challenging each other and placing bets on who would come out on top. By the time they leave the results are fairly even, all three of them rather lethal in their own ways. Dean’s heart is still racing and his cheeks are still flushed as they’re driving back to the house, images of Castiel’s prowess with a handgun playing over and over in his memory. After a few moments of quiet Cas speaks.

"I've always been the strange one."

Dean looks over to him in surprise, and he can feel Victor's confusion radiating from behind them. Cas gives him a wry smile that Dean doesn't really want to give a tally mark.

"Back when I was a kid, at school? I was just that weird kid with the large and rich family. But even in my family I was the odd one out."

Dean glances towards Victor a little obviously, trying to remind Cas they aren't alone. Either Cas doesn't get it or he doesn't care. Dean guesses this is all part of the unmasking effort. Cas is just going the extra mile with Victor there.

"I didn't want to stand out," Cas continues. "I loved-- _love_ my family, but I just couldn't seem to do what was asked or expected or... so on. No matter how hard I tried."

The awkwardness that had suddenly been rather stifling is actually starting to disappate as Cas talks, seeming a little lost in memory. Dean has to remind himself to look at the road every once and a while because he's so intrigued.

"My younger brother, Sam--"

Dean shoots Cas an alarmed look, and Cas smiles weakly back. "Yes. Samandriel was his full name. But most of my family called him Sam."

For some reason Dean feels no need to question the odd name. Castiel, Samandriel. Dean's actually a little curious about the rest of Cas's siblings' names.

"I'll never understand why, but Sam was the only one who really didn't... I don't know, judge me? for how I always ended up on the wrong side of things. He still was one of the good children, of course, but I suppose he was just more understanding. We were the closest in age, and I suppose there's a natural bond that came out of that." Here Cas pauses and lets out a sigh that's a little impressive in how much it holds.

"I was on my way to an event. Some liberal protest my family didn't approve of. On my way I was dropping of Sam at work." Cas smiles sadly but amused. "He worked at this awful hot dog place. Wore an absolutely ridiculous uniform. We made fun of him at first, but Sam.... Well, Sam would never be bothered by something like that. He always just took those things in stride, so teasing him was never really all that fun." Cas shakes his head, the smile falling away. "I digress." He's quiet for a moment, and Dean actually has to remind himself to breathe. And look at the road.

"I can't even tell you exactly how it happened. It went by too fast. Sam and I were laughing about something. Just enjoying each other's company. I hadn't gotten to see much of him lately. I had been too busy with other things. All things my family didn't approve of, of course. There was an accident. Somehow I got out fairly unscathed. Sam didn't make it."

Dean feels like his stomach's dropped somewhere near the gas pedal, and his heart's sitting uncomfortably in his throat. The name isn't helping either. God, he can only imagine how he'd feel if that happened to his Sammy. Dean glances through the mirror again to see Victor is wincing in sympathy. Cas finally turns to look at Dean again, giving him a small smile.

"My family blamed me. To be honest, I blame me. I know I wasn't paying attention to the road as much as I should have been." (Dean quickly fixes his eyes on the road, heart thudding painfully in his throat.) "My family tied it to the protest I had been going to, making it sound like it was because of that that Sam had died. Most people believed them.

"After that, I stopped being so outright with my differences. I learned to hide, to blend in. I put up a mask, as you put it," Cas says, nodding at Dean. Dean feels a surge of guilt go through his insides. And he'd even called Cas weird to his fucking face several times. Smooth, Winchester. Real smooth. Cas shrugs though. "I guess it didn't work as well as I hoped."


	6. Almost Lover

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Cas..." he says slowly. "You're not a virgin, are you?"
> 
> Cas looks away, rubbing at the back of his neck, and Dean feels his eyes fly wide. "You're kidding me. You mean you never--"
> 
> "The opportunity never arose," Cas grumbles, avoiding looking in Dean's direction. "Always the odd one, remember?"

For the rest of the day Dean has to deal with stinging pangs of guilt whenever he looks at Cas. Cas finally catches on by the end of the day and, rolling his eyes, tells Dean to forget about it and that he's gotten it all his life. It doesn't really make Dean feel any better.

The next day their little vacation from rehearsal is over, and they start recording. It's slow going at first. Recording a cappella is always different from performing a cappella. Performing they can get away with more because they're also on stage with a bit of choreography thrown in which distracts from any minor discrepancies in tune and blending. But on a recording the listeners don't have any of that to distract them so The Vessels have to be even more precise than usual. It's hard with the two days off, things still being tense between Sam, Benny, and Dean, and Cas being new to the whole thing. Bobby ends up getting frustrated enough that first day to call it an early night.

Exhausted, Dean heads to the kitchen to throw together a sandwich (though the Reese's Puffs look tempting, maybe he'll have a bowl of that too). As he puts on a grilled cheese, he pulls out his phone to text Emma. The tension with Sam and Benny had reminded him he still needs to set up a lunch date with her. Cas comes in as Dean's phone buzzes with Emma's reply.

"Who is it?" Cas asks curiously, pulling out the milk and pouring himself a glass.

"Emma," Dean replies as he types out his own reply. "Since she's in town I figured we should go out for lunch so we're setting up a time."

"Ah," Cas says. Dean looks up with a raised eyebrow. There's something else lingering there in Cas's expression, and Dean can't quite make out what it means.

"What?" he asks. Cas shakes his head.

"It's not my place."

Dean looks at him disbelievingly. "Considering Sam and Benny already blabbed, I think you're fine, Cas."

Cas frowns at that but seems to be convinced. "I was just wondering about Emma's mother."

Dean chuckles wrly. "Lydia. She's one of those crazy, kinky, preying mantis chicks. You know the type."

Cas shakes his head innocently. "Not really."

Dean stops, frowning at him. "What do you mean, 'not really'?"

Cas's eyes go wide, and his ears turn pink, like he hadn't meant to say that. He ducks his head, taking a long gulp of his milk, and something occurs to Dean.

"Cas..." he says slowly. "You're not a virgin, are you?"

Cas looks away, rubbing at the back of his neck, and Dean feels his eyes fly wide. "You're kidding me. You mean you never--"

"The opportunity never arose," Cas grumbles, avoiding looking in Dean's direction. "Always the odd one, remember? No one ever wanted--"

"Yeah, but that why bars were invented, dude!" Dean exclaims. "You go find some chick you've never met before, never gonna see again, and you get some!"

"I've never really--"

"No, look," Dean interrupts quickly, abandoning the late dinner. There are more pressing matters, really. "We're going out. Right now. And I'm gonna get you laid if it's the last thing I do."

* * *

They end up at a little place Dean's never even heard of. It's a little toned down from his usual watering holes, but this outing is for Cas. Dean's favorite places would probably freak the guy out. They grab a table, and Dean orders two pints to start them off right away. He's thinking maybe he'll try his luck tonight as well, but the first priority is Cas, and to do that Dean's pretty sure Cas is going to need some liquid courage. Dean immediately starts scoping out the other patrons. Again, yeah, wow, okay, definitely not one of his usual places. Not that these people are strange or anything, just a lot less drunk and a lot more put together than the bars Dean frequents. It's a bit weird to see, really.

And then there's the music. It's not the head banging, rowdy, get drunk and have sex stuff that Dean's used to. To be sure, it's not like it's a place where people aren't here to get drunk and have sex, it's just... less obvious, Dean decides finally. Like people are trying to do it with some dignity or something. Whatever. But, really, the music. Dean's pretty sure he recognizes the song playing somehow, and he strains to listen, trying to figure it out.

 

_"your fingertips across my skin,_

_"the palm tree swaying in the wind,_

_"images_

_"you sang my Spanish lullabies,_

_"the sweetest sadness in your eyes_

_"clever trick,_

_"images"_

 

_"well, I'd never want to see you unhappy_

_"I'd thought you'd want the same for me"_

 

Dean almost chokes on his beer when he finally figures out the song. Really? It's a good song, sure, but it's a little depressing. Which, okay, a lot of the people here might be able to relate to the song, and maybe that's good for business or something but damn.

 

_"goodbye my almost lover_

_"goodbye my hopeless dream_

_"I'm trying not to think about you_

_"can't you just let me be_

_"so long my luckless romance_

_"my back is turned on you_

_"should have known you'd bring me heartache_

_"almost lovers always do"_

 

Dean turns to make some comment about the music choices here to Cas, but Cas is looking around at the bar like a deer in the headlights. It's almost funny, actually. Almost. Not quite since Dean still hasn't shaken off Cas's story from yesterday. A part of Dean starts to wonder if maybe this was one of his not so brilliant ideas. Forcing Cas into something he's not comfortable with, something he's not ready for, that's maybe not such a good plan. But Cas then reaches out for his pint, taking a deep gulp from it, and gives Dean a steely-eyed stare.

"Do I get to finish my beer first?"

Well, he can't be too against this. Otherwise he wouldn't have even agreed to come here in the first place, right?

"Take your time, man," Dean says with a sweeping gesture.

 

_"we walked along a crowded street,_

_"you took my hand and danced with me,_

_"images_

_"and when you left you kissed my lips,_

_"you told me you'd never ever forget these_

_"images, no"_

 

_"well, I'd never want to see you unhappy_

_"I thought you'd want the same for me"_

 

As Cas nods and takes another long swallow of beer, Dean turns his attention back to the rest of the bar. There's a chick with great tits that might actually be real, making small talk with a bartender. Doesn't look like either the bartender or the chick are hitting on each other, and it doesn't seem like she's pouring out her woes either. She has potential, Dean supposes. But then, it all depends on what Cas would want. Would Cas want someone like her? Dean looks closer. No, her face is practically painted on. No way Cas would like someone like that. Kissing her would be a mouthful of lipstick.

 

_"goodbye my almost lover_

_"goodbye my hopeless dream_

_"I'm trying not to think about you_

_"can't you just let me be_

_"so long my luckless romance_

_"my back is turned on you_

_"should have known you'd bring me heartache_

_"almost lovers always do"_

 

Something draws Dean's attention back to Cas who is quickly looking out to the slow moving dance floor. He can't be sure, of course, but Dean thinks Cas has just been staring intently at him. Which, to be honest, isn't that out of character for Cas, but something about it is off. Something Dean just can't quite place. Cas's eyes are flicking about the room jerkily, never focusing on one spot for too long. Maybe he's just able to write candidates off that quick. His pupils are dilated, Dean realizes dazedly. Well, okay, yeah, duh, it's dark in here. But not that dark. Right?

 

_"I cannot go to the ocean,_

_"I cannot drive the streets at night,_

_"I cannot wake up in the morning_

_"without you on my mind_

_"so you're gone and I'm haunted_

_"and I bet you are just fine_

_"did I make it that easy_

_"to walk right in and out of my life"_

 

Cas seems to give up for the time being, turning back to meet Dean's stare with his own. It's almost like they're trapped, caught in each other's gazes, and Dean can't understand why. There's something, _something_ , going on in those wide blue eyes, and though he's gotten better at reading him, none of that is helping him now. Really, most of Dean isn't even trying to decipher it. Most of him is just caught, all thoughts dying down to white noise.

 

_"goodbye my almost lover_

_"goodbye my hopeless dream_

_"I'm trying not to think about you_

_"can't you just let me be_

_"so long my hopeless romance_

_"my back is turned on you_

_"should have known you'd bring me heartache_

_"almost lovers always do"_

 

The song ends just as softly and nondescriptly as it started, but the magic of the music seemed to have had some effect on the unplanned staring contest. As soon as the song ends, Dean blinks, dropping his gaze and taking a quick sip from his pint. Then he takes a deeper swallow. That had been a bit unsettling, and he's eager to put it behind him.

"So," he says, setting his pint down with a loud clunk. Cas is looking a bit awkward, ears a bright pink. Dean flashes him a grin like nothing had happened. "What's your type, Cas?"

Cas frowns. "My type?"

"Yeah! What do you like in a woman?" Dean asks, taking another swig of beer. "Or man. Or both. Whatever's cool." God, he doesn't even know if Cas liked women, does he?

"I, uh," Cas starts, the color in his ears not going down in the slightest. "Men, actually."

For some reason that makes Dean's insides go all funny. "Yeah?" he says, trying to sound casual. "Okay. Cool. What kinda build do you like?" He starts looking around at all the guys in here. There's a kind of handsome guy over there, looking like he'd come straight from work in a suit and loosened tie. A little weedy, maybe, but to each his own.

"I..." It seems a bit difficult for Cas to get this out. He speaks softly, barely loud enough for Dean to hear. "Some muscle, I suppose. Not too much. Tall. Lighter eyes. And I... I like freckles."

"Hm," Dean hums thoughtfully, looking around and nursing his beer. "The freckles might be harder, especially since it's dark." He frowns at his empty pint. "I'm gonna go fill up. You good?"

Cas gives him a distracted nod, and Dean smirks as he goes for a refill. Seems like maybe Cas is getting more interested in things. He certainly looks more resolute.

As a bartender gets him more beer, Dean looks around the area for anyone fitting Cas's description. Bits of it seem a little oddly specific, like the lighter eyes and freckles, but who is Dean to judge? He himself likes sharp hipbones and a great ass. A man likes what a man likes.

Freckles, though.

The bartender hands him back his pint, and Dean thanks him absently, attention on scoping people out. He's so focused on the task at hand that he doesn't notice Cas has stood up, the determination Dean had noticed suddenly hard and fast. Dean looks at him in surprise, something unpleasant twisting in his stomach.

"Found someone?" he asks. Cas nods curtly.

"Yes."

That unpleasant thing claws at Dean's throat, and he tries not to wince. What's the matter with him? Maybe he ate something funny. Dean is too wrapped up in trying to calm down his insides to realize Cas is leaning forward, eyes closing, and....

Dean's eyes fly wide when Cas's lips meet his. A little part of the back of his brain registers the scratch of Cas's stubble, the softness of his lips, but most of his brain has gone silent for one brief moment before bursting into panic. It feels like hours but is probably mere milliseconds, and then Dean's pushing Cas away roughly, wiping at his mouth with the back of his hand.

"Cas, I-I-I don't... I'm not...." He stammers stupidly with no idea of what he's trying to say. Cas looks just as horrified and shocked as Dean is, he just deals with it more calmly, and of course, his blue eyes are shining with hurt. _Fuck_.

"I'm sorry, I didn't..." Dean tries again. "I-I don't... I'm sorry."

His legs start moving while his brain's still stuck on trying to figure out what just happened. He may knock over a couple people on his rush out the door and back to the Impala, but he doesn't notice. His brain doesn't come back down from it's hysteria enough to take in his surroundings until he's almost home and catches a brief glimpse of his own face in the rearview mirror. He feels sick.

Freckles.


	7. The Unforgiven III

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "He kissed me," Dean finally mumbles. Benny doesn't seem very impressed by this revelation.
> 
> "And...?"
> 
> Dean looks up, annoyed. "And what? Benny, Cas kissed me! That's... That's...." He flounders. "That's not okay!"
> 
> Benny's forehead crinkles in a frown. "But I thought... No, of course, Sam was right. Usually is when it comes to you."

Victor's reading a book at the kitchen table when Dean bursts through, heart still racing and insides still churning. Victor looks up from his book at Dean's entrance.

"Hey there," he greets. "Heard you and Cas went out." He's smiling and it gives Dean the nasty feeling Victor somehow knows what happened. But then Victor seems to take in Dean's state and the lack of anyone with him.

"Where _is_ Cas?"

Dean realizes with a jolt he's left Cas at the bar, stranded with no way to get home. His immediate instinct is to turn right back around and pick him up, but he can't. No, he just can't. Not after....

The panic is rising in his throat again, and Dean can't see Victor's concerned frown as he start to rise to help Dean out somehow. Dean fumbles for a moment, brain going into overdrive, before fleeing upstairs to his room.

* * *

Dean sleeps uneasily that night. He finally gives up around five in the morning, hauling himself out of bed and going straight for the Impala. He ignores his growling stomach as he starts up the car, tension leaving his body as her familiar roar fills his ears. He rolls down the windows and turns up the music and just _drives_. He can't stay at the house, not with the distinct possibility that Cas somehow got home, and not with more recording in the schedule for the day. Bobby will tear him a new one for ditching when he catches up with him, but Dean couldn't care less right now.

For the first hour or so Dean can't stop thinking about last night. It's a bit pathetic, but he can't even bring himself to really put together the words of what had happened in his own damn head. But the fact was that Castiel had _kissed_ him. And, yeah, okay, now that Dean's looking back on it, Cas's whole description of what he liked was, well. Dean. And, yes, that freaks the hell out of Dean. How did that happen? When did it happen? Had Dean done something to lead Cas on? Sure, yeah, he's been nice, and the two of them have been hanging out kind of maybe exclusively a little more than maybe is normal, but Dean was just trying to make Cas comfortable, part of the group, right? Some unwelcome part of his mind points out that if that had been the case, they would've spent more time with the others as well. Which they did, of course, with rehearsals and everything, but still.

But, hey, Dean liked the guy! As a friend. Friendship, that was all he felt. The way his unearthly blue eyes and low, rough voice made him felt was inconsequential. And Dean refuses to think about the gun range. And the fact Cas made him happy, made him laugh, and was just fucking awesome just meant they were friends. There was nothing more. Just apparently Cas hadn't taken it that way.

Getting frustrated with circular thoughts and the lump steadily growing larger in his throat, Dean forces himself to stop thinking and focus on the sensation of driving. Eventually, it works. By the time Dean makes his way back to the house, quietly making sure he avoids alerting Bobby to his return, Dean's feeling like maybe he can actually deal with this somehow. Until he catches a glimpse of Cas in the living room talking with Sam and he loses his nerve again, running upstairs hopefully before Cas can notice him. He starts to make his way to the window that leads to the roof but stops himself. That's not a safe place anymore. That's not just his place. That's his and Cas's place, and Cas is exactly who he's trying to stay away from right now. His room is stifling and there's nothing to keep him occupied in there other than his guitar, which would tell everyone exactly where he is, so where the hell can he go?

Dean opts for Benny's room. He knocks on the door softly before opening it, walking in without a word and quietly shutting the door behind him. Benny looks up from where he's sitting at his desk, his laptop open in front of him, and raises an eyebrow.

"Oh, are we talkin' now?"

Dean frowns, confused for a moment as he sits on Benny's bed, curling one leg up next to himself. Oh, yeah. The Emma thing at the dress rehearsal the other day.

"We were never not talking," Dean says gruffly, picking at a spot on his jeans.

Benny gives a disbelieving snort. "Right. You should know me 'n' Sam didn't actually tell Cas anythin'. Sam even said it wasn' our place to talk about it. I just said somethin' about how I remember you comin' home the next morning completely sloshed, and Sam said you were in over your head with Lydia. Then you came in all bitchy and--"

"Okay, fine, I get it." Dean brushes him off irritably. This isn't exactly helping. Benny frowns, seeming to catch on.

"What's up?"

"Nothing. It doesn't matter."

"Heard you came home last night without Cas," Benny prods. "Victor said he had to go pick him up last night, and that Cas was actin' all out of sorts."

So that's how Cas got home. And Cas was out of sorts. Well, of course he was, he'd just kissed Dean, and Dean had freaked out and left him there. Dean would've been out of sorts too. Doesn't seem like Cas had told Victor what had happened, though. Benny stays quiet for a moment, and Dean can feel his eyes on him, waiting, watching.

"He kissed me," Dean finally mumbles. Benny doesn't seem very impressed by this revelation.

"And...?"

Dean looks up, annoyed. "And what? Benny, Cas kissed me! That's... That's...." He flounders. "That's not okay!"

Benny's forehead crinkles in a frown. "But I thought... No, of course, Sam was right. Usually is when it comes to you."

Now it's Dean's turn to frown. "What in the world are you talking about?"

Benny sighs. "Well, I mean, Dean, the way you been actin'.... I mean, it's not like you're as good 'bout hiding some things as you think you are. But I guess Sam was right that you'd freak out first if you two ever got the ball rollin'."

"What the hell--" Dean barks, forgetting that he's hiding from a couple people in the house. "Benny, I'm not gay!"

"No, but bi?" Benny shrugs. Dean blanches at him. Benny raises his hands defensively. "Look, I'm not tryin' to force your sexuality on you or anythin', but _damn_ , Dean. I seen the way you look at people, men and women both. I known you since we were eight, brother, and I know what you look like when you're appreciating someone's ass or thinkin' about what they'd look like naked."

Dean can't find any words to reply with, his mouth still hanging open. Did they _all_ think this? Benny, Victor, even Sam? But half of his mind is filing through memories, pulling them out and showing them to him as proof. Harrison Ford had always gotten him a little hot and bothered, ever since he was a kid. There had been that one kid in high school, his lab partner in Biology, the one with the goofy smile. And the burly dude in the bar with the pants that were tight in all the right places he'd maybe almost gone home with during college. And countless other examples. And, of course, Cas.

"Dean, I seen you go through so many crushes, relationships, one night stands, so on, and I've never, _never_ ," Benny repeats the word forcefully, "seen you like this. Not even with Lisa."

Dean shoots him a glare. "That's low."

Benny shrugs. "But true. Lisa was great, but you wanted too much outta her. Cas? Cas surprises you. And you like it." He watches Dean closely for a moment before shrugging again. "Not to mention if you let this sit and fester, it's not just going to ruin your relationship with Cas, but it's going to ruin all of us, Dean. We're kind of counting on Castiel to bring The Vessels back, remember?"

Dean can't stay and listen to anymore of this, and there's no way to deny it's because too much is ringing true. Letting out a loud sound of annoyance, he slides off Benny's mattress and stalks out. He doesn't miss the heavy sigh Benny gives behind him.

Somehow managing to avoid everyone in the house, Dean makes his way back to the garage, grabbing his iPod from his room on the way there. He'd rather play his music out loud but since he's hiding the headphones are safer. The Impala has been in need of some tender loving care lately he was reminded this morning. He plugs himself into the iPod, puts a playlist of some of his favorite artists on shuffle, and settles himself below the undercarriage.

The great thing about working on his car is that he can let out any aggression he needs to, and he's usually too focused on the mechanical issues at hand to be distracted by any shit in his life. Dean feels fantastic pretty quickly until the music in his ears shifts from one song to another particular one.

 

_"How could he know this new dawn's light_

_"Wouldy change his life forever?_

_"Set sail to sea but pulled off course_

_"By the light of golden treasure"_

 

_"Was he the one causing pain_

_"With his careless dreaming?_

_"Been afraid_

_"Always afraid_

_"Of the things he's feeling_

_"He could just be gone"_

 

_"He would just sail on_

_"He would just sail on"_

 

Dean lets out an audible growl. Idiotic Metallica feelings songs were _not_ something he wanted to listen to right now. He moves to pull the iPod out of his pocket and skip the song but stops when he remembers the amount of grease on his hands. The iPod had been from Sam who would kill him if Dean ruined the expensive piece of shit crooning James Hetfield into his ear.

 

_"How can I be lost_

_"If I've got no where to go?_

_"Searched the seas of gold_

_"How come it's got so cold?_

_"How can I be lost_

_"In remembrance I relive_

_"How can I blame you_

_"When it's me I can't forgive?"_

 

Dean tries to knock out the headphones by bumping his shoulders to his ears, but his attempts are futile. This isn't fair, he groans. Why this song? Out of the hundreds on the playlist, why this one? Grumbling loudly to himself, he tries to ignore the music and focus on the car. It doesn't work so well.

 

_"These days drift on inside a fog_

_"It's thick and suffocating_

_"This seeking life outside it's hell_

_"Inside intoxicating_

_"He's run aground_

_"Like his life_

_"Water's much too shallow_

_"Slipping fast_

_"Down with the ship_

_"Fading into the shadows now_

_"A castaway"_

 

_"They've_

_"All gone_

_"Away"_

 

_"They've gone away"_

 

Victor had told Benny that Cas had seemed off. Jesus, Cas probably hated Dean now. Cas had taken a chance and gone for it, and Dean... Dean had.... Well, what was he supposed to do? Kiss the guy back? That was an idea.... No. No, no, no. No, they were just friends. Cas was awesome. An awesome singer, an awesome composer, an awesome guy. The guy was a virgin, so clearly he had no idea what he was doing when he kissed Dean. It had been a mistake. Dean had reacted as anyone in their right mind would and should. But that didn't explain why Dean was feeling so guilty.

 

_"How can I be lost_

_"If I've got nowhere to go?_

_"Searched the seas of gold_

_"How come it's got so cold?_

_"How can I be lost_

_"In remembrance I relive_

_"How can I blame you_

_"When it's me I can't forgive?"_

 

_"Forgive me_

_"Forgive me not_

_"Forgive me_

_"Forgive me not_

_"Forgive me_

_"Forgive me not_

_"Forgive me..."_

 

Over the music Dean thinks he hears something else. A sudden yell of his name startles him, and the wrench he was holding over his head slips from his fingers, landing right on his nose. Swearing profusely and forgetting about his grease covered hands, Dean yanks out his headphones and, clutching his nose, climbs quickly out from under the Impala.

Cas is standing on the other side of the car looking shocked and a bit worried by Dean's reaction. And maybe the blood rushing out of Dean's nose.

"What happened?" Cas asks incredulously.

"Dropped a wrench," Dean mumbles, embarrassed and finally remembering the grease again and grimacing. It'll be all over his face now. Awesome.

"Are you all right?"  Cas asks, clearly rather concerned.

"I'll be fine. Just hand me that towel over there, will you?" Dean points over to the tool box. Cas does as asked wordlessly, eyes still racking Dean's face with uncertainty.

"I feel I should warn you that Bobby is extremely angry with you."

Dean snorts humorlessly. "I kinda figured."

It's quiet for a few moments as Dean avoids Cas's gaze by wiping off his hands and face and dapping gingerly at his nose. He feels more awkward than a teenager at their first prom. It's fucking ridiculous.

"Look, Cas, I--" he starts, still not sure what he's going to say.

"It's fine," Cas interrupts quickly. Dean looks up to see Cas is actually smiling at him. "You don't need to apologize or explain anything."

Well, that settles it. Castiel Novak is a better man than Dean Winchester any day. Cas continues smiling at him as he leans against the car like he's readying himself for something else.

"I wanted to ask you something," he says slowly, as if picking his words carefully. "You asked me to work on expressing myself more, taking down barriers so I'm easier to read and so on, for the good of The Vessels. I...." Cas pauses, obviously thinking things through. Dean is watching him intently now, dead curious to know where Cas is going with this.

"You have a kind of a mask too, barriers of your own." Cas's tone is cautious, making Dean feel a bit like he's a wild animal being calmed down. "You carry it differently and it's harder to tell, but.... Well, I know barely anything about you. And I was just.... For the good of our friendship, maybe.... I just want to know you better, Dean."

Dean frowns at him. There's no way that can be true. Cas knows plenty about him. Right?

Cas gestures, an idea coming to him. "Your daughter, for example. I think you are under the impression Sam and Benny told more--"

"I know they didn't," Dean cuts him off abruptly. "Benny told me."

Cas nods, but he doesn't say anything. He looks expectant. Dean waits for the look to go away for a brief moment before sighing.

"I met Lydia at a bar when I was in high school. It was one of the craziest nights of my life, and when it was over I never expected to see her again. But nine months later she turns up with a baby girl. Not only did my dad rip me a new one, but I... freaked out. I didn't know what to do. So I was... I've barely been involved in Emma's life. Most of the time I've just... pretended she doesn't exist." Dean pauses here, remembering his conversation with Emma the other day.

"Think I'm gonna try to fix that now, though. Seeing her the other day...." He smiles softly. "She's trying to graduate high school early. She's beautiful. Brilliant. Put together. She didn't get that from either of her parents, I can tell you that."

"I take it you don't have much respect for Emma's mother," Cas says. Dean scoffs.

"Lydia's become a real gold digger. So, no, I don't." Dean hesitates. Cas is asking him to share more, and though Dean hates doing that, part of him feels like he owes Cas. And Benny's mention of Lisa earlier had gotten to him.

"There was a... a woman," he says slowly, awkwardly, avoiding looking at Cas. Even though Cas barely even shifts Dean can feel his interest grow. "Her name was--is Lisa. At first she was just an awesome weekend. But... I don't know how it happened, really. But... well. I have a lot of respect for her."

"What happened?" Cas asks gently. Dean shrugs.

"Things fell apart. Didn't really crumble or come tumbling down or anything. Just sort of... wore away." Dean looks back up to Cas with a tense smile. "Sam says I expected too much out of her. Everyone else agrees. Hell, I might even agree myself."

It's quiet between the two of them for awhile. For some reason Dean can't explain, it's not as awkward as it really should be until he starts thinking about it. Cas seems to recognize Dean's getting uncomfortable again because he gives Dean a rather nice smile.

"Thank you," he says earnestly. Dean only stares back at him, not even trying to figure out a reply. Then Cas nods, still smiling, and leaves.


	8. Angeles

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He has to _do_ something. But Sam....
> 
> Sam catches his eye and, somehow knowing exactly what's on Dean's mind, smiles.
> 
> "Good luck."
> 
> And that's it. That's all Dean still needed.

Bobby yells at Dean for a good half hour, forty-five minutes when he sees him. Usually Dean would yell right back, but he knows he really does deserve it this time so he just takes it quietly. When he emerges from Bobby's office finally, Charlie's waiting there with a nice juicy burger for him. Dean gives her a kiss on the forehead, professing his undying love for her.

Lunch with Emma goes better than Dean could've ever hoped for. She tells him all about what she's studying on her own free time, and her passion for it warms something deep inside Dean that he's not entirely ready to admit. She also tells him about a boy she has a crush on, and Dean makes her promise to tell him if anything, good or bad, happens with the kid. He then promises her that he'll stay in better touch with her. Emma gives him such a wide smile at that that he's a little afraid she'll start crying.

The Vessels get back to recording, quickly getting into the swing of things and speeding through most of it. Dean can't help but continue to feel a bit awkward around Cas, still thinking about how his lips had felt against Dean's, but he manages to keep himself acting somewhat normal. The two of them take turns swapping stories, Cas telling him all about every single one of his siblings, and Dean telling him about his mother's death, his father's alcoholism, and raising Sammy.

They finish recording and throws themselves headfirst into final preparations for the concert. Sam places a ban on any music other than a cappella which inevitably turns into nothing but their own albums. Dean gets thoroughly sick of listening to his own voice. He's grumbling about it to Sam one evening after everyone but the two of them, Charlie, and Cas have gone to bed.

"Just tonight can we listen to something else? One of your girly bands, even," he's pleading. "Anything but ourselves!"

"We open in two days, Dean," Sam says firmly, and Dean scowls. "No. We're keeping one hundred percent focused. So don't think about watching those DVDs Charlie got in the mail today," he adds with a warning look in his eyes. "That can wait until after we've opened. Maybe even later."

Dean opens his mouth to argue, but Charlie nudges him and shakes her head with a small, private smile. Sam, apparently satisfied and not noticing the look on Charlie's face, walks ahead to where Cas has already settles himself in the living room.

"Want to finish that chess game?" he asks, and Cas nods looking excited and determined. Dean turns his attention back to Charlie.

"What?" he asks in a low his so Sam can't hear.

"I didn't just get DVDs, remember?" Charlie whispers back conspiratorially. "Wanna try out that new roleplay game I got?"

Dean and Charlie end up settled down on the couch, huddling over her laptop which they've angled in a way so that Sam can't see it. They keep the sound off and, though Dean wants to use headphones, Charlie points out Sam would be able to at least see that. So they're still forced to listen to The Vessels in the background, but Dean's attention is on the game so he doesn't mind too much. Distantly he realizes Bobby and his people must've finished putting the new album together because Cas's voice has joined the mix. While Charlie furiously works on destroying a bunch of evil wizards on the computer, Dean glances up to where Sam and Cas are silently playing chess. At about the same time Dean recognizes what song is playing. It's Cas's solo, the rest of them quietly bringing up the background.

 

_"Someone's always coming around here, trailing some new kill_

_"I said I seen your picture on a hundred dollar bill_

_"And what's a game of chance to you is one of great skill_

_"I'm so glad to meet you Angeles"_

 

Cas lets out a loud and sudden "HA!" followed by his declaration of checkmate, and Sam groans. "Well played," he says with a smile and a nod. "Nice to have someone who'll play with me around here."

It's a little strange to watch. Sam and Cas get along amiably. Which shouldn't be that surprising, really, but it's caught Dean's attention.

 

_"Picking up the ticket show there's money to be made_

_"Go on and lose the gamble that's the history of the trade_

_"You add up all the card left to play to zero_

_"And sign up with evil Angeles"_

 

Unheeded by Dean, Charlie notices he's distracted. She leans closer and says softly in his ear, "You should really get on that."

Dean jerks in surprise and frowns at her. She shrugs innocently.

"I mean, if you want to just sit around and do nothing, more power to you, but...." Another shrug. Dean doesn't want to admit it, but he understands what she's saying perfectly. And maybe, just maybe, he agrees.

 

_"Don't start me trying now_

_"Oh, cause I'm all over it Angeles"_

 

_"I can make you satisfied in everything you do_

_"All your secret wishes could right now be coming true_

_"And be forever with my poison arms around you_

_"No one's gonna fool around with us"_

 

"I'm heading to bed," Charlie tells him, eyes still sparkling. Dean nods, watching Sam and Cas's conversation as they put away the chess pieces. What would Sam say? Would he even care? Well, of course he would care, but would it be a good thing or a bad?

Charlie, with a slight chuckle, closes up her laptop and slips away. Cas and Sam finish clearing away the game, and then Cas bids them both good night. Dean stands quickly. He has to _do_ something. But Sam....

Sam catches his eye and, somehow knowing exactly what's on Dean's mind, smiles.

"Good luck."

And that's it. That's all Dean still needed. Dean gives Sam a nervous grin and rushes after Cas.

 

_"No one's gonna fool around with us_

_"So glad to meet you Angeles"_

 

Dean catches up to Cas just as he's about to open the door to his bedroom.

"Hey, Cas, wait a minute," Dean says quickly, taking the last few hurried steps between them. Cas turns to Dean, curiosity written clearly in his eyes. Dean distantly marvels at the face he can read him so well now.

"Uh, look," Dean says haltingly, suddenly realizing he hasn't really thought this through. "About the other night, at the bar.... I... I don't... I didn't...."

Dean's never really had a way with words. He would much rather _do_ something as opposed to talking about it. Maybe that's why he gives up his stammering and opts instead to reach out and kiss Cas full on the mouth.

Cas jerks a bit in surprise and then freezes, but Dean persists, eyes screwed shut tight. And then Cas's hands settle on Dean's hips, and he's kissing him back. Dean can't remember a time when he felt so light, so simply happy. His fingers curl in Cas's hair at the back of his head as something desperate and hungry claws it's way forward. Cas responds in turn, clutching tightly to Dean's hip with one hand, the other making it's way to Dean's back to pull him in closer. At some point one of his hands must let go, though Dean doesn't really notice because he's too focused on pressing as close as fucking possible to Cas. But one of Cas's hands must let go because the door opens quite suddenly, and the two of them stumble through it, still trying to taste as much of each other as they can.

Dean definitely steps on Cas's toes a couple times, and the only reason Cas doesn't fall over backwards to the floor is because Dean's grip on him is so tight. Chuckling lowly, Dean decides Cas's collarbone is rather attractive and he'd really like to know how it looks with a nice bruise. Cas breathes out a little gasp as Dean latches his mouth to the spot, and Dean realizes how tight his jeans are getting. As a matter of fact, it's not just his own erection there. There's another hard line pressed against his thigh. He groans, his hips jerking just slightly, and, oh _Jesus fuck_ , that makes Cas's hips jerk too. Without even thinking about it, still sucking intently on Cas's collarbone, Dean starts unbuttoning his flannel. There need to be less clothes in the current situation. Now.

Cas catches on to what Dean's trying to do and starts helping, long and nimble fingers working quickly. Dean lets off of Cas's skin with a wet pop and doesn't even take the time to examine his work before helping Cas shed his shirt. Then they're kissing again, tongues swirling, teeth hitting. They tumble onto Cas's bed in a mess of limbs and half-off socks, when Cas starts giggling. Dean pulls back with a jerk to look at him disbelievingly.

"Why are you laughing?"

Cas shakes his head, still giggling, his face turning red. Dean can't tell if it's from the laughter or embarrassment. Either way, he's extremely confused and a little frustrated. His cock is straining painfully, trapped in his jeans, and Cas laughing is _not. helping._

"I'm sorry, I just..." Cas waves a hand in apology. "I really have no idea what I'm doing. And this isn't the most elegant thing ever, is it?"

A wave of affection threatens to drown Dean so he leans down to kiss Cas deeply. "I don't really know what I'm doing either, to be honest," he whispers. Cas reaches up as Dean starts to pull away to yank him back down again by the back of his neck. There's another few minutes of deep, slow kissing before Cas pulls back with a smile. Dean chuckles, then tugs on the waistline of Cas's pants.

"I do know these should be off."

That snaps something urgent inside of Cas apparently because his pants are off in record time, quickly followed by his boxers. Dean doesn't have time to admire the sight of Castiel Novak finally naked under him because Cas, with a sudden burst of strength, flips Dean over and makes quick work of his jeans and boxers. Only then does Cas halt, sitting on his knees over Dean's legs. Dean pushes himself up on his elbows for a better vantage point.

A mixture of emotions swirl haphazardly in Dean's stomach. Both of their cocks are standing proudly, red and straining. Cas is a bit shorter in length than him, and maybe not quite as thick, but it doesn't fucking matter. In fact, it fits. He's leaking a bit at the tip, Dean notices. A bubble of anxiety floats to the top of his emotions. He's watched gay porn, sure, but actually participating in it is a whole other issue, and he's starting to feel the beginnings of a freak out.

But then Cas reaches out and takes Dean in his hand, and electricity seems to shoot down Dean's spine. A noise he would rather pretend didn't happen escapes his throat, and he arches into Cas's touch. Before Dean can react any further, Cas leans down and captures his mouth in another kiss. Dean manages to tell his hand to grab Cas's cock before his brain shuts down completely, and he's going on pure instinct. He tries to pay attention and catalog every little sensation, from Cas's scruff rubbing harshly on Dean's own, to the nails of Cas's free hand digging into Dean's right shoulder, to how the hairs on their legs will tangle and snag. But there's simply too much, and, really, his focus is centered on the way Cas tugs and squeezes his cock, both their precome pooling on Dean's belly.

Somehow Dean manages to keep his head enough to focus on what he's doing to Cas. He starts with just going with what he knows, what feels good for him. A thumb over the slit, a tug here, a fondling of the balls there. Cas has this ridiculous look on concentration on his face, but it suddenly turns to surprise and pleasure when Dean lets go of his cock and works on his balls. Dean files that away for reference later and smirks. Cas catches the smirk and immediately kisses it away. Dean's brain is momentarily sidetracked by Cas's tongue down his throat, and he jerks when he feels a rough finger running over his hole. Okay. So that's definitely something they'll have to explore further.

Cas comes first, his thrusting suddenly losing it's rhythm. Dean manages to control himself enough to watch Cas's face as he comes, a look of wonderment in his nearly black eyes. His come is hot on Dean's fingers and stomach, and it's the heat that sends Dean over the edge. He comes down with a shudder, breath thick and heavy, slowly becoming aware of Cas's limp weight on top of him. He presses a small kiss on Cas's shoulder.

With a tired groan, Cas pushes himself off Dean, rolling to the side. Dean shifts so he's facing Cas, and the only word he can think of to describe the feeling threatening to explode inside of him is fucking jubilation. Cas looks gorgeous like this. Really, he needs to be sweaty and half asleep all the time. And glowing. The glowing is a nice touch.

"Hey," Dean says quietly, not even attempting to suppress the stupid smile that's settled on his lips as Cas opens his eyes to blink up at Dean. Cas returns the smile. Out of all the smiles Dean has tallied and fallen in love with, this one is by far his favorite. He's looking forward to coaxing it out again time after time.

"Hi," Cas replies, voice lower and rougher than even his amazing morning voice. Dean's cock makes a valiant effort to swell again at how utterly fuckable the single syllable sounds. Instead Dean leans in to give Cas a short, sweet kiss.

"Good night, Cas."

"Good night, Dean."


	9. Epilogue

Dean's pretty sure the last time the air during intermission was buzzing this much with excited energy was The Vessels' first ever show. The first act could not have gone better, and they all know it. Bobby keeps reminding them not to get cocky, they still have the whole second act to go, but there's no calming Benny down, for one. He's practically bouncing around the whole stage, and it's just lucky they close the curtains during intermission. Even Victor has a large smile on his face that he can't seem to wipe away. Charlie keeps going around to each of them, jumping up to wrap her arms around their necks in tight hugs. Sam gave up quickly on trying to act level headed and keeps throwing Dean huge grins that remind Dean of when Sam was a kid and would get excited about things like a new Batman comic.

Cas's fingers are wrapped between Dean's, occasionally squeezing in Cas's own way of letting out his elation. Dean feels like he's been almost constantly resisting the urge to kiss Cas stupid for the past two days, and the close to hysteria he's feeling right now is making it worse. Charlie's making her way around again, but this time to tell them two minutes to curtain. Cas lets go of Dean's hand as they make their way to the mic box and grab their mics. Lights start to dim and the crowd starts to quiet, and Dean finds Cas's eyes still glittering in the dark. He can't resist it any longer. He kisses Cas just as Bobby's voice starts announcing their return to the stage.

Victor's rolling his eyes, Benny's fake vomiting, and Sam is just grinning at the two of them as the curtains open. Dean ignores all of them in favor of staring back at Cas, both of them smiling broadly. All five friends bound out to the stage to wild screams and cheers. Dean glances back at Benny, who nods sharply with a single beat, before turning back to the audience and belting,

 

_"Carry on my wayward son_

_"There'll be peace when you are done_

_"Lay your weary head to rest_

_"Don't you cry no more!"_

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again, I want to thank Deanna and Chantelle for their support. Deanna, for one, was with me through this when I was still trying to decide what to write for this challenge and was extremely helpful and patient as I freaked out over every tiny little thing. Chantelle, I really appreciated getting to know and love, and, seriously, her art is the cutest, isn't it? I flailed every time she sent me an update.
> 
> Finally, I would like to give you guys a list of a few of my favorite a cappella groups. A cappella is something I grew up on, starting with groups like Rockapella and The Persuasions, and it has a very special place in my heart. (Also, if you guys want to rec me any a cappella groups, PLEASE DO.)
> 
> The Persuasions, Rockapella, Mint Juleps, Ladysmith Black Mambazo, The Cat's Pajamas, Pentatonix


End file.
